The 17 Year Old Opera – Er, School – Ghost
by MaroonPhantom5
Summary: Erik Giry, a solitary music loving teenager finds his match in Christine Darling. He 's drawn to her singing as well as to her beauty. Can he accept that she loves him for more than appearances? Can Christine keep a role when a prima donna's after it too?
1. Man and Mystery Is he Myth?

Hey everyone! This is my first Phanfic, because I've been waiting for a story that wouldn't: a.) be like everyone else's, and one that would do justice to the phantom in a good way. I adore Erik like everyone else, but I have to say here:

As in the usual disclaimer:

**I don't own any of the characters, nor the music in this wonderfully magnificent musical. I give Andrew Lloyd Webber credit for that. **

**One other thing: I have not read the book, nor seen the stage production, so I don't really have much to compare to. So if you're laughing at me or sneering because I haven't seen the originals, you might want to stop reading now. It'll just get worse. :D **

**Let's see… I was going to say something else… hmmm… but I can't remember what. So, just ignore my thoughtlessness and continue down the page to read my story! **

**Thank you, and enjoy!**

**-MaroonPhantom**

After Christine Daae and Raoul left the catacombs of the Phantom's lair, Erik was heartbroken.

Through his heartbreak, the Phantom continued to write songs. Some were sad, dark, mysterious, and longing. They summed up his state in a nutshell.

Prima Donnas came and went from the Opera Populaire, but none of them could catch his interest for very long. None of them held even one tenth of the attraction he had felt for Christine Daae.

The Phantom seldom left his dark and gloomy home. The outside world was too unforgiving. If anyone saw him, they would have probably hunted him down and brought to trial. Since the arson of the Opera Populaire, no one had done much to find him.

He figured that they thought he was thinking over his actions and feeling remorse for what he'd done.

Depending on his mood, Erik did feel ashamed. Other times he felt Andre and Firmin _deserved _the demise of their inherited opera house. After all, they hadn't even bothered to pay his salary!

Erik wallowed in his scores, putting his heart and soul into them, for they were the only way he was living.

The idea came to him one day. It was both painful and beautiful at the same time.

_In sleep he sang to me…. _

He penned the words of his first coherent opera since Don Juan. It wasn't just any opera.

It was his own.

But our story begins nearly two hundred years later in a small town, rocked by a seventeen year old boy looking for compassion- anywhere, and a girl caught up in the middle.

And so, the opera Erik Le Fantome wrote is not myth, but a tale drenched in reality.

This is their story.


	2. Adoption

Madame Antoinette Giry-Dupont picked her way through the streets, squeezing through the crowd made up of vast numbers of children and adults, to reach the front desk of the Paris Adoption Organization Building.** (Note: this is probably not a real place, therefore a fictional part of the story I just decided to make up)**

Today, March 21st, was the most popular day to come and adopt new foster children. Many schools were on spring break, off from classes and enjoying the mild early-spring weather. Madame Giry herself was a French teacher at Versailles High School in Versailles, Indiana.

She had come all the way to France to adopt a child because after her first daughter, Meghan (Meg) was born; Antoinette and her husband were unable to have children. And then after her husband died, Madame Giry felt a strong need for another child to keep her and Meg company.

Madame Giry had warm hazelnut eyes, the best features in her heart shaped face, and chestnut-colored locks reaching all the way down to her waist, although her roots were just beginning to gray.

She refused to dye it, as everyone told her she should. The lady was known for being a bit of a penny pincher, and a fan of leaving things the way they were meant to be.

Madame Giry finally reached the desk, checking her electronic watch for the time. She was already several minutes late to her appointment, due partly to the crowd and the busy Paris traffic. With her luck, they might have thought she didn't come at all.

"Excuse me," said the lady in French, tight-lipped. "I have my adoption papers and I've come to collect my son."

The man there seemed surprised she could speak his native language. To the citizens of any country, American tourists were easy to spot. He must have picked her out as an American to look so astonished.

He recovered and motioned for her to follow him.

Clutching her ID papers and passport, she strode swiftly behind him, watching people come in and out of the passageways into the hall. Doors slammed, and beaming people came out, hands linked with those of small boys and girls.

Finally they reached a small wooden door echoing unexpected noises. There was screaming, sobbing and moaning.

What in the world was going on here?

Madame frowned and opened the door, peering in to see four boys, two on their bunk beds, and two lying on the floor, in pain.

"Madame," He said in French. "These boys are what we call, "troubled". They were abandoned at birth by abusive parents, and we've done as much as we can to help them, but there's only so much we can do. I strongly recommend moving along. I'm sure we can find another boy for you."

His mouth turned up in a forced smile, and Madame thought this act was sudden and heavily practiced. Why would they want to keep troubled boys if they were so horrible? What would be the point in that?

"Antoinette," He mused.

"Toni." She corrected.

"Yes. Toni," He began again, " You aren't seriously thinking of adopting one of them, are you?"

She didn't answer; instead, she walked toward one of the boys, lying on his bunk bed. He was frantically scribbling something on a scrap of paper, turning away from Madam Giry as soon as she came close.

"Monsieur, what is your name?" She addressed him properly, hoping he would turn around to look at her.

He twisted halfway around. "Erik. With a K on the end, not a C."

She nodded, impressed at his intellect. Erik was a scrawny nine-year old boy with dark shoulder-length hair, covering one half of his face. "So, Erik, how would you feel about getting out of this place?" This she told him in English, just as a test.

"I would love to leave. But you're too pretty to adopt a boy like me. I'm dangerous and mean." He replied in English.

She moved back toward the man. "So you've taught them to read and write, I presume?"

He nodded. "We send them off into the world with an education, Madame, if that is what you are asking." He defended indignantly.

"That boy is most peculiar." The man confided in a whisper, "He prefers the piano to flesh-and-blood friends. Since we introduced him to the instrument, we can't seem to get him to do much else. He is a magnificent player for being only nine years old, but I fear he spends far too much time playing music and not making acquaintances. In his room, we always find him writing something."

"No matter," Madame Giry replied, brushing off the criticism of her future son easily.

"I own a piano, as well as a young daughter, only a few years younger. They will get to know each other well. I'm sure being social will not be a problem."

The man looked at her skeptically, but agreed to grant permission for the adoption, anyway.

Gathering up his belongings, young Erik looked both relieved and afraid to be taken outside of the adoption center. The paperwork was filled out and everything was set for Antoinette Giry-Dupont, and her new son, Erik Giry-Dupont to go home to Versailles, Indiana.

The two of them got in the car.

Clearing her throat, Madame Giry introduced herself.

"All of what he said is true, Toni," He said glumly, looking down at his feet. She hadn't realized he had heard what the adoption man had said, but none of it mattered now

"Whatever you had before is going to change, Erik. The first thing I want you to do is talk to your new sister, Meg. She has been waiting for years to have a brother. She needs someone to look up to, and you're it."

The expression on his mysterious face changed from one of blank confusion and anxiety to a bit of hopefulness and wonder.

Madame Giry dialed the number and passed the phone to Erik.

That conversation began a close relationship between a young, confused boy, and a hopeful, lonely girl who would become his sister.


	3. New Student

September 5th, 2007 (eight years after Erik's adoption)

Christine Daae Darling walked the halls of Versailles High, feeling a bit self-conscious. A lot of passing students were looking straight at her. She even heard some whispering going on. Christine hoped the obvious attention she was getting wouldn't last very long.

"Christine," Meg Giry said, making her snap her head back from all the wondering faces.

Her friend smiled. Meg was a kind girl, much like her old best friend in Michigan. The difference between them had nothing to do with personality, but more their appearance.

Meg had honey blonde, straight locks, flushed cheeks and small, delicate lips. Christine especially envied Meg's sky-blue eyes, light eyelashes and brows.

Christine was paler, and dark haired. Trying to tame her curls was always a challenge, so most of the time she let her hair do what it wanted. Today, for once, she let her hair fall over her shoulders.

"Did you meet my brother?" She asked.

Christine furrowed her brow. "You have a brother?"

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you about him. He's–let me think of a way to describe him–" She paused to think of the correct word to use. Describing Erik was always difficult.

"–Private." She finished. Christine cocked her head in confusion. "Is he shy, you mean?"

Her friend considered this. "I suppose so, but whenever there's music around he makes a beeline for it. He's not a people person."

"Ah." Christine could relate to this very well. She might have been considered beautiful by her peers back home, but that did not mean she was popular. This is not to say she wasn't friendly; Christine sometimes preferred solitude to company.

Meg looked at her watch and remarked, "You've got to get to class. The bell–"

She was cut off by the mechanical ringing coming from the ceiling speakers. "Bye!" Meg called, running off in the opposite direction.

"Bye!" Christine called back, looking bewildered. She hadn't thought to ask Meg how to find her class.

She spotted someone coming out the door of classroom, and ran to them.

"Excuse me!" She called, feeling awkward and embarrassed. The figure didn't turn around. "Can you help me find my class?"

Finally the boy turned around and put a hand to his heart. "You were talking to me?" His tone was half-surprised and half sarcastic.

Who else would she have been talking to? "Yes. I'm new and I don't know my way around. I was hoping you could help me."

"The school is a square. Getting lost is impossible." He barked.

Christine sighed impatiently. " Can you tell me exactly where I'm going? I'll give you my schedule."

She stopped in her tracks and zipped open the pocket of her messenger bag. She rushed over to the unknown boy and handed him the half sheet of paper with her schedule on it.

He studied it, still with his back turned, so she couldn't see his face. She thought it was a little strange that he wouldn't even look at her when she gave it to him.

I wonder what his problem is… She thought.

"Okay," He said, changing the direction of his glance from the paper to the floor, "Room 220 is on the west side of the school. It's the one with the big yellow poster on the door."

"Thanks," She replied, grateful for his help. Without his guidance, she would have surely been lost.

Christine ran in the other direction, not expecting to see this strange boy again.

Five minutes before the next bell rang, Christine was starting to get anxious. She had been forced to go back to the office for an unexcused pass. On the first day of school! She hoped she would be able to get to her next class on time. Christine couldn't afford any more tardy slips.

The last few minutes of class were left open for socializing, since the only duties of the teacher were getting to know his or her students, passing out syllabuses, and going over the curriculum.

Looking up from packing up, she saw a tall, muscular boy smiling at her. He moved out of his seat, and came striding toward her. He had long, light-brown curly hair and he was wearing a leather jacket.

"Hey," the boy said to Christine, while coming to sit on her desk. Christine, utterly clueless and embarrassed said in a squeaky voice, "Hey."

He carried the smell of a cologne, mixed with an ashtray bite to it. Usually disgusted by the smell of cigarettes, Christine was finding she liked this boy's smell….

"I take it you're new here?" He asked, in a seductive voice. This made Christine almost drop the calculus book she was shoving into her backpack, but she remained calm, and replied simply, "Yeah."

"I'm Ray," He said, sticking out his hand, obviously gesturing for her to shake his hand. Instead, she stared at it for a second, looking at his large, meaty hands, and cautiously removed her hand from the desk and placed it in his.

He supplied most of the pressure, so she didn't have to move her hand much. "Do you need help finding your next class?" He asked, politely, still fringing his voice with a persuasive tone.

"S-sure. I'm Christine." Christine said a bit awkwardly.

This was an interesting first day so far. But it was going to get even more interesting…


	4. The Play's The Thing

**The bold notes here represent copyrighted material by Andrew Lloyd Webber from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not mean to steal or explicit his work illegally, so I thought I'd better point this out. Thanks and enjoy! –MaroonPhantom**

Christine managed to make it through at least half the day without mishaps. Ray ended up walking her to all her classes. Despite his smoky smell and tough physique, he was a surprisingly good conversationalist.

Christine was shocked to have attracted a boy to her side at all, since mostly at her old school, Christine had been ignored. Actually, she had mostly preferred it that way, since she was one in a large school back in Michigan.

When she got to lunch, she searched the small room for one familiar face, at least: Meg Giry. Searching frantically, her eyes finally came to rest on her friend. She bid Ray farewell and walked to the farthest yellow table from the front of the room.

"Hey," Meg called over someone, "You finally made it. Everything okay?" her friend asked, looking concerned.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just the usual worry whether I'll have to go eat in the cafeteria or in the bathroom." She said with a grin.

"Well, come and sit down," Meg said, motioning for her to come to her side of the table.

"Thanks." She said, setting her lunch box down and opening it. Out of the purple plastic container, she pulled a sandwich, an apple, a drink and a cookie. This kind of lunch was average fare in the Darling house. In other words, Christine couldn't complain.

The two of them were quiet for a few minutes, each having a chance to start their lunches in peace.

"Who was that boy you were walking with?" Meg asked with a mischievous grin.

Christine's expression immediately became wary. "What are you thinking? Because if you are going to try to set us up, I am not interested."

Meg rolled her eyes. "You would be happy to have a date, and you know it. It's just a question of someone getting you two together, because you'd never do that much by yourself."

"He follows me everywhere!" She shrieked. "That doesn't mean it's automatically okay for you to push us together. Besides, I don't like him." She wrinkled her nose. "He smells like cigarettes and looks like he has his Harley parked outside the school, waiting to duck out of class and head out of state!"

The corners of Meg's mouth started to raise in a smirk, but she said nothing else on the subject.

In the short time Christine had known Meg, she recognized the look that told Christine that Meg's brain was working on a plan.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Meg's eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Oh, I forgot to tell you! There are going to be auditions next week for the school play, and the drama club needs some members. Last year, five people joined, and that wasn't enough to do a full-scale musical. This year they're going all out, making flyers, and announcements… You should come audition!"

"What musical are they doing this year?" Christine asked, intrigued. Musical plays had always fascinated her. She loved the beauty of words put to song. She loved the flow of it all.

Meg paused to think. "I know I saw it somewhere… let me think." Meg squinted her eyes shut, and rubbed her temple, trying to remember what the play was.

"It's all right," Christine said, sensing that the idea was far from Meg's reach. "You can tell me later when you think of it."

"Okay," Meg agreed. "But when I think of it, you need to come to the auditions. Promise?"

Almost instantly smelling potential for regret, Christine sighed and nodded her head.

A man with a microphone announced that lunchtime was over, and it was time to go back to class.

The next few days became easier for Christine, since she began to learn quickly where things were. She began to get settled, and the more that happened, the less she needed Ray to be around.

Of course, even when she could find her classes on her own, he insisted on staying around to make sure. Often she wondered if he went to his own classes. He would come out in the hallway and wait in the door until Christine came out, before walking her to her next class.

Soon, posters for the drama club were posted all over the school: on lockers, walls, doorways, and even in the girl's locker room, which is where Christine saw them during her PE class.

The only reason she was taking PE now, was that she had moved so many times in the last four years that she was missing her gym credit. Now she felt embarrassed to be taking a class with a majority of freshman and sophomore girls.

But the worst part was that Christine was taller than most of the other girls. She wasn't just taller than them, she _towered_ over them. She couldn't say as much for the boys, since they were all in the middle of their growth spurt, but still, she felt a little awkward.

One morning Christine walked into the locker room like she usually did, set down her backpack and opened her locker. She reached for the combination lock when she heard a faint sobbing.

_Hmm, that's a little strange_, Christine thought to herself. She didn't take notice until the sobbing got louder. Christine sighed and put her shirt back on over her dainty white bra, and walked over to where the sound was coming from.

If she didn't know better, Christine would have thought this was a soap opera, and the girl sitting on the bench was a very good actress, to be crying so hard.

The girl brightly blonde and was heavily made up, with crimson lipstick, light pink blush and bright blue eye shadow. The mascara on the girl's face was steadily running down her face, and she had big, blotchy eyes.

"Are you okay?" Christine asked the girl. She looked up, seeing Christine's concerned and wondering expression.

And when this girl stopped crying, almost on a dime, Christine knew she was dealing with a Class-A drama queen.

"Oh," she said in a high, nasal voice, "I'll be fine. My boyfriend sent me a note telling me he was done with me. I never knew he felt so strongly." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stark white handkerchief, making a show of wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

Now that she noticed it, Christine figured out that the girl she was dealing with had a slight Italian accent.

"Thanks for the concern, though." She said, as if just now remembering that Christine was standing there. "What we had was amazing, though." There was a suggestive glint in her eyes.

"There has to be an end to everything. Even the best people have to go on with their lives." She meant this to be encouraging, but the girl broke into a fit of sobs again.

_Nice move_, She said to herself, high on sarcasm. Christine tried another approach. "You'll get over him and then you can find someone new. You were probably too good for him anyway." She enthused with a smile.

She laughed a bit through her tears. "You think so?"

"Yes. I think there are probably a lot of other people that would love to have a relationship with you." _I can't think of one of them, right now._

"Thanks," She said. "I'm Carla. You're new here, right? I know Ray's told me about you."

Ray? As in _the_ Ray that walked her to class? Although Christine was panicking inside, she didn't let it show on the outside.

"I'm Christine, and yeah, I'm new here. So glad I could help you." She turned and walked away, again, not guessing that she'd see her again.

Consulting the audition flyers found everywhere there was an upright, flat surface, Christine looked at the details frantically for anything she had missed.

It had been several days since the incident with Carla, and today was the audition day. The flyers said that each auditioning member must read a passage from the character's lines they wished to try out for, as well as bring a piece of music to sing, with a piano accompaniment.

Her nerves flared up in the last hour of the school day, sending little butterflies into her stomach as she waited for the bell to ring. Paying attention to anything that was said was especially difficult today.

Finally, Christine's dread and hope happened: the bell rang. All the students streamed into the hallway, some forming groups and clumping around the exit to the school. Christine found this especially annoying, since it was difficult to get through.

After grabbing her backpack from her locker, Christine walked to the school's large auditorium and opened the door. There were only about twenty people sitting in those first few rows, and when the director saw her, she motioned Christine in.

"Are you auditioning today?" The director asked. She was a very tall, thin woman with fiery red hair. She was young and Christine thought she looked very professional.

Christine nodded, and found a seat next to Meg.

"I was wondering if you were going to come," Meg whispered. Christine replied, "I almost wasn't, but then I thought it would be fun to see what it's like."

Meg smiled and turned her attention back to the director, whose name she learned was Mrs. Firmin.

Christine's heart pounded throughout the entire audition, while she was waiting for her turn it crashed in her chest. She wondered if anyone else could hear it…

She recognized the girl from the locker room­– Carla– who auditioned for the lead role. Christine quickly saw that this girl had been in every play or musical she could get her hands on, and that she commanded control of the stage from the get-go.

Carla was bratty, and expected she was going to get the role. Christine didn't particularly like her singing voice, so if it was up to her, Carla would not have won the role.

But since her opinion had no bearing on the outcome of the auditions, Christine sat quietly and watched the others perform.

When it came to Meg, the blonde girl flipped back her beautiful hair, took a breath, and began to sing. Meg's voice was beautiful– soft, light and comforting. There was nothing about her friend that made Meg's performance outstanding, especially, but she had to admit that Meg was a very good singer.

Then, finally, Christine got her chance to be in the limelight. She climbed the stairs to the stage and looked out over the crowd before taking a breath and beginning her song.

In the distance, Christine saw a dark figure standing by the doorway. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was watching her.

Christine handed the music to the accompanist and put the strange figure out of her thoughts.

"**Think of me,"** She began, **"Think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye."** There were several cheers and smiles.

"**Remember me once and a while, please promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, When you ever find a moment, stop and think of me."**

At this moment, the piano took over for a few bars, and she had time to look out. The stranger at the entrance to the room had turned back so he was watching. He began to come back toward the stage, stopping in the center of the aisle to listen.

"**We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me,**

"**Think of all the things we've shared and seen, don't think about the way things might have been,**

"**Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned, imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind,**

"**Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do, there will never be a day when I won't think of you,**

Again, the piano's notes swelled (although it would have been better with an entire orchestra). She waited.

"**Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were, she may not remember me, but I remember her."** It was a male voice, beautiful and deep, reminding Christine that this was how it was supposed to be. In this context, his interference worked.

The rest of the song went as planned, but she couldn't help but think about the male voice who had joined hers…


	5. Angel of Music Sings

Again, I must point out that I do not own the lyrics to The Phantom of the Opera, and so I will keep them in bold to make this clear.

Oh, I must tell you that after writing this chapter, I was swooning at my own description of the Phantom. I know that sounds a little vain, but I think you might find it more true than you think (or at least I hope.) Enjoy! MaroonPhantom

"**Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"**

The rich and warm male voice puzzled Christine's senses in rich colors, sounds and feelings that left her wondering whether she was really experiencing this.

She was back on stage, the spotlight shining brightly on her, and somewhere in the depths of the auditorium, was the singer. Christine could not see the man (or boy?), elegantly singing to her.

"**Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen, Stay by my side, guide me."** Christine sang, feeling the words coming out of her mouth without willing them to…

Christine heard his chuckling, echoed by the emptiness of the room. She was drawn, somehow, to him…

"I am here, my Angel. Right here beside you." But when she turned to glance in the direction of the voice, he'd disappeared.

He began singing again, coaxing her off of the stage. **"Look at your face in the mirror. I am there inside."** A full-length mirror had appeared in the time she had taken to look away, and there he was.

She never saw his face due to the darkness of the room, but she imagined it: his sound coming from a flawless pair of lips, creamy skin, and dark hair. His eyes, she thought, might have been a warm shade of green, or maybe even blue.

Christine swooned at the possibilities. "Show me what you look like," She pleaded with the stranger. "Why do you insist on hiding yourself?"

"**Flattering child you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide…" **He turned away again, flooding the auditorium with his sweet voice. It was mysterious, yet beautiful. She assumed the voice came from a man, but she supposed it could be that of a well-developed young boy. That was the toughest part, though. She wasn't sure which sense she should trust anymore, for the sounds and sights deceived her.

"Oh, Angel. Show me the way! I do not know where to turn. You are confusing me." Christine was beginning to feel frightened.

"Do not worry, child, my angel Christine. You have a chance to give me a try. I shall teach you to sing, to help you win the heart of a boy who has already convinced himself you are his, but then, like Christine Daae, you must choose between the one who loves you for shallow beauty and the one who loves you for your voice. Eventually you can let the fear you are feeling now turn to love and be with me for the rest of eternity."

The figure standing there crossed the space between them and began a new song. **"Nighttime sharpens and heightens each sensation,**

**Darkness stirs and awakes imagination**

**Silently the senses abandon their defenses**

**Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor,**

**Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender,"**

He gently put his hands on Christine's waist and started to move his gloved fingers down and across the silky dress she found herself wearing. His touch was warm and welcome, more than she might be likely to admit.

He reached a point and smoothed his hands in the opposite direction, up toward her chest. But he didn't go any farther than that in any sexual kind of way; he simply pressed himself to her from the back, so she could feel the head of the stranger against her hair.

The stranger took her right hand, then and grasped it (not tightly) in his, lifting it to the exposed skin of the square neck of her dress, holding it there.

Everything about his motions were gentle, and soft. None of the movements he made were sudden or unexpected. The bright lights from the ceiling instantaneously dimmed, letting one patch of light sneak through, and he turned her head so she could only see the darkness and feel his warmth on her skin.

"**Turn your face away from the garish light of day,**

**Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light,**

**And listen to the Music of the Night."**

Now Christine was swooning like she never had been before. She felt her knees go weaker and her mind let go of the worried thoughts it was whirling through. Her hands grew limp, and her eyes began to close.

"**Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams,**

**Purge all thoughts of the life you knew before,**

**Close your eyes, Let your spirit start to soar.**

**And you'll live as you've never lived before."**

Christine's eyes continued to close and she felt a strong arm around her, carrying her somewhere…. But he kept singing, bringing his voice even softer than even before. She could have opened her eyes, she could have glanced at the stranger's face, but something in her told her to keep them closed.

"**Softly, deftly, music shall caress you,**

**Hear it, feel it secretly possess you,**

**Open up your mind,**

**Let your fantasies unwind,**

**In this darkness you know you cannot fight**

**the Music of the Night."**

**Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world…**

**Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before**

**Let your soul take you where you long to be,**

**Only then can you belong to me."**

Christine then fell completely limp and was only concentrating on the music. The stranger had put her in an isolated room, covered by a curtain, which she felt as he carried her onto a bed in the middle of the room.

"**Floating, falling, sweet intoxication**

**Touch me, trust me,**

**Savor each sensation,**

**Let the dream begin,**

**Let your darker side give in**

**To the power of the music that I write**

**The power of the Music of the Night"**

She felt him crouch to her side, feeling his warm breath on her ear, as he whispered, "Good night, my Angel of Music. You will know me soon enough."

He placed a light kiss on her lips, and she was just about to say something when… her eyes fluttered open.

She was back in her room, light from the window streaming through. Christine had slept through her radio alarm, which was blaring, but she was still halfway in her dream world.

It had to be, far and away the best dream she'd ever had. First a guy with a gorgeous voice sang to her, then he began touching her, and eventually, he'd kissed her right on the lips.

But there was something about this particular dream she'd noticed. The stranger who'd done all of this had looked familiar. She wasn't sure who it was, or where she knew him from, but she was sure she knew he looked similar to someone.

And she was bound to figure out who it was and why he had appeared in her dream.


	6. Piano Man

Erik's POV

Were my eyes deceiving me? What the hell was I on to not recognize her immediately? She was the girl earlier in the week who asked me for directions to her first class.

When I heard her sing at the audition, I wondered for a few minutes whether she was a product of my dreams, rather than reality. It was what I'd dreamed of for months; a girl in a beautiful costume serenading my subconscious. The white top she was wearing glittered in the spotlight. As I listened, I imagined her in a sparkling dress, coming toward me, sitting there in the audience.

And then the music started. _Think of Me_ was her selection, beginning with the opening lines from the pianist seated a little below the stage. I nodded in appreciation. Her voice was not just good; it was spectacular, and I was pretty sure she had never taken voice lessons.

My brain started churning, and I thought of ways I could connect with this girl. It was difficult, I must admit. I had a passion for singing, and if her voice were as beautiful as I knew it was, I would show her a few tips. I'd be an anonymous benefactor, not revealing my name until she was sure she would study with me.

But then a horrible thought crossed my mind.

What if she didn't want to study with me? What if she thought I was a psychopathic stalker, and I was only trying to gain her trust to use her? Oh no, that would never do. Absent-mindedly, I joined in with the part of Raoul, catching up in time for Christine's next line.

She looked a little startled up there on stage, as if she had never heard the part before. I knew better, though. After a few seconds, she relaxed and began where she'd left off.

After mulling over my plan in the hallway half an hour after she performed, I came up with the solution. When they announced the callback list, I would intercept it, and whisk her away to my dark domain…

Yes, I suppose that sounds a little creepy, but that's what I call the old practice room where I play the piano. I'd written several compositions that I wanted her to hear, especially since some of them were based specifically upon my dream vision; the dream of her.

_Wait a second_, I thought, _you don't even know her name. That being said, how are you going to get her to come to you? She doesn't know who you are, either._

I grimaced. Every time I came up with what seemed like the perfect plan, my practical side began to take over. Damn being practical! This was one chance I wasn't dreaming of passing up.

Who knew when I would get the chance to teach a beautiful girl how to sing?

Christine exited the audition room happily. The butterflies that had crowded in her stomach earlier were beginning to relax and eventually leave.

Meg met her at the door with a large grin on her face. "You did amazingly! I can't believe you sang _Think of Me_. It was so beautiful. I wonder who the guy was, though."

Christine blushed with pleasure at the amount of praise she had just been given. "You were really good, too. Were you nervous at all? It didn't look like it."

"Thanks," Meg said, obvious distracted, "But who do you think that guy was?"

Christine rolled her eyes. Meg would rather talk about the guy over the rest of the audition. " How should I know? I'm the one who's new here, remember?"

Her friend sighed. "Well, I guess we have to do something about that, don't we?"

Christine watched Meg warily. "Don't you dare try to set me up again, all right? You will be in big trouble if you do."

"You're too smart for your own good, you know that?" Meg teased.

Christine smiled and put an arm around Meg, leading her out of the auditorium. "Come on. We've got to get home because I've got some homework."

The following day, Christine casually walked by the auditorium, wondering whether the callback list would be posted yet. Although she doubted it, she couldn't help but check anyway.

Nope. Oh well. It would be posted within the next week or so, according to Mrs. Firmin, the drama club director.

She continued walking down the corridor, toward the practice rooms, where she began to hear a piano solo being played.

Curious, Christine peered into the small windows of the practice room doors, dark and deserted. There were two rows of practice rooms, some ranging in size from a small, piano-sized room, to a large room meant for an ensemble.

Finally she found the room, filled with light and sound. She strode toward the door and knocked…

Erik's POV:

I had been playing one Bach piano solo so passionately that I thought maybe the whole school might have been able to hear me.

The practice rooms had been soundproofed several years back, but the work they did on them wasn't very good, since I spotted someone coming down the hallway. I assumed it was a teacher coming to tell me to tone it down a bit. I've been told that before…

But it wasn't a teacher. It was that girl; it was the one from the stage! I couldn't believe my luck. Butterflies began to form, making my stomach jump unexpectedly. I turned back to the music and tried to refocus myself. Maybe if I ignored her, she might go away.

I didn't want her to go away though! Fighting for control over myself, I said shakily, "Come in."

She had a curious look on her face, as if she wasn't sure what to think of me. "I heard you playing down the hall." She said.

I thought of every possible response to this. "I can be loud," I said, still looking down at the white ivory keys.

"No, that's not really what I meant," She assured quickly. "What you were playing was beautiful. Can I hear the beginning?"

"Sure. Do you play at all?"

She shook her head. "Not really. My grandmother used to have a piano, and when she died my father and I inherited it, but I haven't really learned how to play. Dad wanted me to learn, but he never had the money to give me any lessons."

I nodded. I was glad, at that moment that I was so fortunate to have Toni to teach me to play correctly. I have distinct memories of my scrambled, angry sound as a child. I guess you could say she toned me down, although I still do get a little wild whenever there's a piano in the room.

"I know I've seen you from somewhere, but I don't think I caught your name." I admitted.

"Christine Darling." She held out a hand for me to shake and I took it. Her hands were cold, but also pale and delicate, even with crimson painted nails.

"I'm Erik Giry." I said.

She nodded. "So you're Meg's brother, right? She's been wanting me to meet you."

Ah, I'd forgotten that Meg and Christine were friends. "Yes. And our mother is the French teacher. Madame Giry?"

"I've been meaning to take French, but I've never gotten around to it. My father always wanted me to take Spanish…"

I grinned. I was beginning to like Christine already. Not only was she gorgeous, Christine was intelligent and had was good-natured.

"Now would you like to hear the piece?" I asked, pretending impatience.

She laughed. "Sorry, I got too carried away in conversation. You must know it isn't like me to be this talkative."

Then she was silent, and I began the piece. Halfway through I stopped, and she looked at me quizzically. "Is that the end? It seemed too abrupt for me."

"No," I said. "Can you read any music?"

"A little." She said.

"Good. Then I can teach you how to play this piece. If you're going to be in the play, you need to know how to read music and how to play."

She had a worried expression on her face, but she came and sat on the piano stool anyway.

That was just about the time I began to fall in love with Christine.


	7. A Date with Disaster

  
This is the longest chapter I've written so far, and it surprised me how much I'm getting into the story… I didn't realize it at first. As always copywrighted material is highlighted. Enjoy! -MaroonPhantom   
"Her father promised her the Angel of Music…" 

Christine found the strange boy Erik, again, in his practice room the next day. She could see he much preferred solitude to company, when it came to most people, but when Christine came in to see him, he seemed delighted.

It was a strange observation, she decided. She felt as if she knew much more about him than she actually did. Maybe it was in the careful way he conducted himself; or his politeness in the way he talked to her. Whatever it was, somehow she was beginning to feel drawn to him.

She knocked on the door, studying his head until he turned around and took his fingers reluctantly off the piano. He smiled with such brilliance Christine's stomach started to flutter. Erik's eyes, emerald-green sparkled, too, making breathing a chore.

He had chocolate-colored hair, which he kept long–much longer and much straighter than any other boy at Versailles, but Erik's covered the left side of his face. Whenever he began to feel his hair shift, he quickly pushed it back to the correct position.

"Hey," Christine said casually to him, ignoring the wave of new things she was feeling.

He, too, seemed to struggle for words, but recovered with a, "Hey. I didn't think you would come back today. I thought I'd scared you off yesterday with my playing."

She grinned. "Nope. I think I'm brave enough to look into the eyes of the monster."

He looked down, his expression changing from delight to sadness. Christine had been joking, he knew that, didn't he?

"What's wrong?" She asked, alarmed. Whatever she had done had obviously ruined the mood, and Erik wasn't about to tell her what the problem was.

"I'd probably better go. See you later, Erik." She said, all in a rush. She was just turning the knob on the door when he called, "Wait! Come back!"

Christine knew she should have listened to him. She knew she should have went back into the room, but there was something there she wasn't sure she wanted to see. And besides, if he wasn't going to tell her what was wrong, he'd most likely sulk about it.

She hoped he wouldn't sulk too long.

"Hey Christine," Ray said later, walking beside Christine on the way to her next class. He was still exaggerating his swagger, as if deliberately trying to show off his black baggy pants and his hand was dangerously close to Christine's.

"Yes?" She responded, turning her head.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Christine froze. Hold on. She was being asked out by Ray? If it weren't for the crowded hallway and Ray's presence, Christine thought she might have started screaming.

"Christine? Are you all right?" He was looking at her curiously.

"Oh, I'm fine," She said, starting to blush. _Oh, I've never been asked out before, and I'm completely freaking out. Other than that, I'm fine._

"I'm free tonight."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll pick you up at 7. Is that okay?"

Still feeling a little embarrassed, Christine answered, "Yeah, that's fine."

They reached the classroom, and Christine stood at the doorway for a second, staring after Ray. He looked back once, and she decided she was definitely overreacting.

"_Daddy, please don't go away!" Ten-year old Christine shrieked._

_She and her mother were sitting by her father's bedside, where he had been laying for several weeks. Doctors and nurses had been bustling in and out of this room, day and night with new equipment and information for her mother._

_Rachel Darling stroked her young daughter's hair gently, trying to fend off tears herself. It nearly broke her heart to see Christine so sad about losing her father._

_She knew that however close Christine was to Rachel, she had much more in common with Anton Darling._

_When Christine was nearly two hours old, Rachel had tiredly handed their wailing baby to her husband, and Christine's crying slowed and eventually stopped. Rachel laughed at the time and told herself it was simply a coincidence, but the father-daughter bond they shared was unique and irreplaceable, not even to the mother of the child._

_Christine and Anton flew kites, played soccer and read together. They dipped their oreos in milk with a fork, a habit Rachel cringed at whenever she saw, but most of all, Anton taught Christine about music._

_He had always been a fan of plays, whether it was musicals or theatrical productions. Rachel had been surprised at this hobby of his, for she had not met many other men who enjoyed such things._

_Anton was a talented man, of that Rachel knew and cherished. He could play the violin easily, as well as the piano, and had a little bit of cooking ability, from his college days at the Big Boy._

_Rachel loved her husband and daughter very much, and the sight of them looking so sad was heartbreaking. She could see Christine was beginning to cry._

"_Aww, sweetie. It'll be all right. Daddy just needs some more time to heal, and then he'll be better."_

_Christine lifted her red-rimmed to her mom. She didn't look like she believed her. "Really?"_

_Rachel knew she was lying. She knew in her heart that Anton would not recover from this bout of cancer. It had weakened him far enough to the point he was bed-ridden for as long as he could live. _

_Telling your ten- year- old daughter the truth, though, was difficult._

"_Let's let your father get some rest, dear. You can see him in the morning." She assured her daughter. Christine was reluctant to leave his side, but she did, slowly._

_Anton's eyes fluttered open for a minute, and he said, "Christine, come here darling. I have something to tell you."_

_Her little face lit up with joy as she ran toward her father again. _

"_I might not be around to see it, but one day the angel of music will come to you. He will teach you things that will make you a better person. He will guide you, and Christine, my dear, learn to accept him as a father figure. I love you."_

_Rachel rushed to her husband's side, kissed him on the lips, and turned an awestruck Christine toward her bedroom._

_A little less than 12 hours later, Anton Darling passed away, his daughter asleep in her room, and his wife by his side as he breathed his final breaths. _

The memory of her father's death hit Christine like a very strong wave. It was so strong, Christine was feeling a little weak in the knees, in the middle of the hallway.

She had a strange needing for someone to be there for her, to get rid of that feeling. Rachel Darling was a strong woman, always busy with work and other things, making Christine realize she didn't want to upset her mother.

After the final bell, Christine picked up her backpack and walked slowly to the auditorium. The ache in her throat was beginning to grow, and she hadn't realized that she was so sad.

Anton Darling had died 7 years before. She was but a child of ten when she lost her father. She had cried relentlessly for at least a month after he died, but she'd never shed any tears since.

The only logic for her strange response to those memories was that she was wishing for advice after being asked out by one boy and having strange feelings for another.

It might have been awkward for any other girl to ask her father for dating help, but Christine knew her father; he was kind and he was good at giving advice. He would have known exactly what to do, but Christine was left without a clue. She began singing:

"**You were once my one companion,**

**You were all that mattered.**

**You were once a friend and father,**

**Then my world was shattered,**

**Wishing you were somehow here again,**

**Wishing you were somehow near,**

**Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed**

**Somehow you would be here.**

**Wishing I could hear your voice again,**

**Knowing that I never would.**

**Dreaming of you'd help me to do,**

**All that you dreamed I could…**

…**You were warm and gentle.**

**Too many years, fighting back tears,**

**Why can't the past just die?**

**Wishing you were somehow here again,**

**Knowing we must say goodbye,**

**Try to forgive,**

**Teach me to live,**

**Give me the strength to try.**

**No more memories, no more silent tears,**

**No more gazing across the wasted years,**

**Help me to say goodbye,**

**Help me to say goodbye."**

For the second time in several weeks, the door to the auditorium closed and a figure walked in, singing:

"**Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance."**

His voice was so beautiful, she was swooning again. _Bad Christine, bad Christine!_ She told herself. She forced herself to reply:

"**Angel or father, friend or phantom, who is that there staring? **

**Angel oh speak, what endless longings echo in this whisper?**

She gasped when the stranger stepped into the light: it was Erik! He smiled at her, and a longing to stroke his cheek, or touch his hand sprang up in her. It made no sense… For he was still merely a stranger to her.

"How did you find me here?" Christine asked.

"A beautiful voice is easy to track," He replied smoothly.

"Yours is just as beautiful. I was so surprised at the audition, but now I recognize you."

He seemed startled at the compliment, but came walking up to the stage. "Do you do this often?" He asked with a smirk.

She cocked her head. "What are you implying?"

He shook his head. "Nothing bad, I assure you. I just wanted to know if I could be your tutor, of sorts. I've been around music longer, so I thought I might give you some tips."

She put her hands on her hips in mock hurt, but agreed anyway. " How much should I pay you for your duties?"

Erik looked shocked for some reason, why, Christine could not fathom. "Initially, five dollars per, but as you get better the fee will decrease."

"Hmm…"

"On a different subject, I heard through the grapevine that Ray asked you out." He said casually, although he felt his blood beginning to boil. He knew Ray was not the kind of boy fit for a girl such as Christine, but if she liked him, what choice did Erik have in the matter?

She looked down, considering her answer. "Yeah."

Christine laughed. "I was so nervous I must have paled right in front of him. I've never been asked out before." Her eyes studied the ground again.

Her words hit him, and he was working up the nerve to say something, but stopped.

She studied his face curiously. "What? I'll be careful, and I didn't think I could say no."

He nodded and turned, so his back was to her. "Where is Ray taking you? I'm just curious. I don't mean to pry." He lied smoothly.

"Probably someplace downtown. You could join us if you want." She was pleading; something Erik found strange. He couldn't help the nervous feeling in his gut from floating around.

"I'm sure Ray wouldn't mind too much."

Erik shivered at the thought of sitting with Christine and Ray at the same time and being able to contain himself from looking at, or touching, Christine.

Besides, Ray was not the sort of character he wanted to associate with, even after all of those years…He didn't wish to be tormented by him again.

"See you later, Christine. Enjoy your date tonight." He said courteously.

"Thanks. I guess I'd better be going, too." She said, picking up her backpack, and watching as Erik shuffled out the door of the auditorium.

On the way out she noticed the call-back list was posted. She scanned the list for her name and noticed it easily.

She would have been excited that she'd made it, but there was something in her that shrugged it off, and she didn't know exactly why.

Christine dressed in her best pair of faded jeans and a pastel green scoop-neck top, complete with matching teardrop earrings and a silver necklace. She tried not to over think her outfit, since she wasn't sure how much she actually liked Ray.

After smearing on some concealer, a little white eyeshadow, and a touch of mascara, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." Her mother cried from the other room. It almost seemed Mrs. Darling was more excited about her daughter's date than the other way around.

Mrs. Darling clutched her digital camera and ran to the door. She smiled at Ray, who was standing in the doorway with nicely combed hair and a clean, collared shirt.

Her mother gushed over him for a minute, and when Christine entered, Ray was doing everything he could not to gape at her like a monkey. She was more beautiful now than he'd ever seen her.

Mrs. Darling took a few pictures and reminded Ray to have Christine home by midnight, if not before, and she warned both of them not to order anything alcoholic. Christine knew she could speak for herself, but she wasn't so sure about Ray.

Christine turned on her cell phone and shoved it in her purse, mostly to show her mother that she would be safe.

Of course, as soon as they were at the restaurant, Christine was planning to shut it off. She didn't want to be interrupted. But she did plan on going into the bathroom halfway through the evening and calling Meg to let her know the details.

"Thanks Mrs. Darling, it was a pleasure to meet you." Ray said, opening the door. Mrs. Darling was beaming, obviously pleased by her daughter's date.

The car ride to Andre's restaurant was pleasant; conversation coming easily to them, something which delighted Christine. She knew the evening was going to be a success.

They each ordered their food and the evening was very pleasurable. Christine's chicken was very good, and she had the impression that Ray's baby back ribs were good, since he was licking his fingers of the remaining barbecue sauce.

"I'll be right back," Ray said, moving in the direction of the men's restroom; he needed to wash his hands.

Christine looked around the restaurant, and she spotted a familiar face. It was Erik, dressed in a suit and tie! She knew it was probably wrong to be thinking the things she was, but he was very good-looking, and when you're a seventeen year old girl, you tend to notice these things…

When he turned around, she sank back into her seat. He saw her, obviously, and walked over to her table.

Maybe she'd been stood up, he dared to hope, or maybe Ray left in a screaming rampage… No, that seemed too good to be true, she looked too happy for that.

"Hi Christine. Fancy meeting you here." He said with a smile.

"Hi! I didn't think you would be here. What are you so dressed up for? Got a hot date?" She teased with a flirtatious grin.

"No, actually, it's my grandmother's birthday. Mom always makes us dress up. I'd rather be wearing some jeans and a regular tee shirt."

He slightly turned his head in the direction of a table where an older lady with straight, white hair, and a lady whom Christine presumed was Erik's mother were sitting.

"Where's Meg?" She asked.

"Oh," He grinned. "She's over there with Charles. She couldn't change the date. I'm the only one who's alone."

"Aww," She said sympathetically. Christine knew how it felt to be alone in a group of people. Although you knew the people around you, you still felt disconnected, or rather, left out.

"Will you take a walk with me?" He asked, more hopefully than he'd intended.

She shrugged. "I'd better not. Ray might wonder where I went. You could sit here until he comes back though." Christine offered.

He took the chair and looked at her. Erik had a strong urge to take her face in his hands and kiss her, right then and there, but he thought he'd better not.

"So, you still want to take some lessons?" He asked.

"Yep. I want you to prove to me that you can sing better than me, and I want you to teach me how to be as good as you are."

At that moment Ray returned from the restroom with a puzzled look on his face.

"Erik, this is Ray. Ray, this is Erik." She introduced.

"We've met," Erik said through gritted teeth. "See you around, Christine." He said while exiting the table.

Christine thought this last comment was weird. She thought both of their reactions were a little strange.


	8. A Darling Debut

Carla Visiovatti had been in every school production ever since the third grade. All her teachers knew she had great talent, and Carla was not one to let her abilities slip away with no one to take notice of them.

In third grade she played the lead, a flower princess with a lovely voice. In fourth grade she played Marie Curie – that was a strange play– and, again, was given a speaking and singing role.

In sixth grade and seventh grade Carla started acting with the community players. Although she didn't get a lead role in those plays (which she sulked about for several days following the auditions) Carla did generally enjoy her days with the community players, and continued to act.

In high school, Carla pounced on any role she could get her greedy little hands on. This year's play was no exception. As soon as the drama director released the audition materials, Carla contacted her immediately.

Three days following Christine and Erik's date, Carla checked the callback listing posted on the library. Ordinarily Carla assumed she would make the listing. She wouldn't have bothered, if it weren't for Christine.

Something in Carla told her to defend her role as the lead. Carla would have been blind and completely deaf to have ignored Christine's performance at the auditions, and she worried whether Christine would have received the part.

To her dismay, Carla found Christine's name printed toward the top of the alphabetical listing.

"Oh well," She scoffed. "She has quite a bit of talent, but it is too raw. Besides, I would be willing to guess she hasn't been in a school play before. This is no matter to me, for I can show her how its' done."

Callbacks were the following day, and Carla had been brushing up on her lines. At random times during classes, she would ask to use the bathroom and take a wadded copy of the script with her to stroll around the school murmuring her lines, hiding when the hall monitor walked past.

School ended with the final buzzing bell and she raced to the school's tiny drama lab. No one was there yet, so she continued to practice, until she heard the door open.

It was Christine dressed so lovely, and sweet, just like the angel Carla knew she was. Carla tried to hide her distaste for the girl. In her opinion, she was so sugar coated, too innocent for a part in a play.

"You toad!" Carla burst out, leaving Christine utterly confused as Carla stocked out of the room.

Rehearsals began three days after callbacks. Mrs. Firmin was quite pleased about her choices for the leads, and didn't hesitate to show it. The "company," as she liked to call it, ran over the script several times and began set preparation.

Christine began taking her lessons from Erik, which sometimes made her reconsider being in the play, but she also knew that eventually would benefit from his teachings.

"Higher," Erik shouted over Christine's high A.

She stopped and yelled, "I can't go any higher than this!"

"Do you not want to be able to astound people with your voice? If not, then you can stop right now. If that's the case, get out of my sight this instant. But if you want to be successful, you'd better start doing as I say."

Christine sent a death glare in Erik's direction. "Heaven forbid I want to be the star. Really, you could be a little more subtle of your dislike for me," and started singing again.

She caught him off guard. He was surprised she'd even thought something like that was true. His reasons for tutoring her were not very good, he supposed, since she thought that he was doing this just to torture her.

It was…. complicated, he told himself. He wanted to be liked, for once, instead of being scorned or ignored, but even more than that, he liked Christine. This being said, though, Erik had his doubts. He thought of his namesake: The Phantom of the Opera.

Le Fantome Yes, I spelled it correctly had loved a Christine, too, but even after all his efforts to teach her to sing and love him despite his disfigurement, she ended up choosing that fop that's for my friend Sarah  Raul! What if Erik Giry's case was the same? What if Christine refused him based upon appearances?

Shaking these thoughts from his mind, Erik refocused his energy on preparing Christine for her role in the play.

Christine could not have imagined her part would not be the small chorus girl that had been indicated by Mrs. Firmin. Just two days before the play was to begin it would change.

Nearly three hours later, a brilliant idea came to Erik. He opened the car door and put his foot on the gas pedal of his car, speeding out of the school parking lot.

He knew he was driving very fast; probably fast enough to catch the attention of the local police, but Erik was too far-gone to notice this.

Erik finally parked the car in the parking lot of the CVS ten minutes from his house and searched the shelves.

"Come on," He muttered to himself. "There's got to be something that can help me." Erik was not referring to Christine or himself. He was thinking of someone very different.

A brown bottle sitting on the oral hygiene shelf caught his eye, causing Erik to grin evilly. Snatching the bottle off the shelf, he headed to the check out counter and paid a good price for revenge.

"You are the toad, madam," He said under his breath, as he dropped off his little care package. Erik smiled all the way home.

Carla woke three days before the play was to open, stretched her long legs and arms and yawned loudly.

"Buona mattina, sole" ("Good morning, sun,") she said to the window in Italian; streaks of sunlight were pouring into her room. She was horrified to find that her voice had cracked three times in the course of one sentence.

Carla tried again, sure her grogginess was attributed only to waking up early. She croaked. She tried singing a passage from a play she'd once heard:

"Prima donna, your song shall never die…" Her face scrunched up in terror as she recognized her voice was no longer what it had been. Panic rose up in her, making her run around the house.

"Momma! I've lost my voice! What shall I do?" Carla croaked again. Her little brothers were smirking behind closed doors, unbeknownst to Carla, but her mother was just as distressed.

"Oh dear, it's just meningitis! It will soon pass," Mrs. Visiovatti cooed, stroking her daughter's hair.

"But then I can't play the lead in the play!" Carla wailed. "That awful Christine girl will take over. She'll steal my lead and Mrs. Firmin will replace me! That's worse than anything in the world, mother."

With this, Carla burst into loud bawling, while her mother called the office of her school to inform them that Carla would not be coming to school that day.

When her classmates found out the news Carla would not be participating in rehearsal that day, they all heaved a sigh of relief. Needless to say, Carla was not very well liked, considering her status as the drama queen. Carla was always complaining about something.

If she didn't get her way Carla would stalk out of the room and someone would have to go and fetch her out of the bathroom.

Most of the cast wondered why she had been chosen in the first place; to them she was a whiny, selfish prat who wanted everything to herself. Obviously she didn't go to preschool where she should have learned to share…

"All right, we've got a dilemma. Carla's out, and we have no understudy for the part of the countess. So here's what we'll do: the play cannot go on without a lead, so I will be holding auditions today. If we have at least three people audition, it will take about half an hour. Sound good?" Mrs. Firmin surveyed the crowd in search of hopeful leads.

Christine had never intended to be the lead in the school play. As she'd heard Carla say once, Christine had never been in a play before now, and therefore was not very good.

"Christine will do it," a voice said behind her. She turned to see Erik, glowering at him.

"Really, I don't want to do it. Don't listen to him," She answered quickly.

There were no other volunteers, so obviously Christine had no choice. "Christine it is, then," Mrs. Firmin announced.

"It's all your fault," Christine told Erik after they walked out of the auditorium from rehearsal. "If you hadn't volunteered me to play a part I don't even know, I wouldn't have had to do it."

"Exactly," Erik replied smugly. Everything was going just as planned. Finally the world could see _his _Christine performing on stage. She would be in a beautiful low-cut dress singing at the best of her ability. He couldn't wait.

She glared at him. "You think this is funny, don't you? What if I mess up a line on stage, in front of all of those people? What if they all start laughing at me?" Her eyes held real fear, for they were wide and dark.

Oh how he longed to kiss her right then! He could have swooped down and pressed his lips onto hers, but he decided now was not the time.

Besides, they were only friends, right? What if that was the only way she saw him? She was taking lessons from him as a favor, to learn something, and not simply to be with him, right? Of course! He couldn't let his imagination get away from him, so Erik turned away, deciding how to say what he wanted without being too forward.

Turning back to face her, he said, "You will be magnificent on stage, Christine. You are amazing, you know. I can see you're angry for my constant criticism, but really I'm doing it for you. Even the best singers in the world have coaches, you know that."

She agreed with a nod. "See you later," She said, leaving Erik behind to watch his angel of music slip away into the darkness.

Ray planned to make his move on the night of the play. His date with Christine seemed fruitful enough; she seemed to enjoy his company. But tonight he wanted something more than just that.

He shaved the stubble that was beginning to appear on his chin and slapped some aftershave on his cheeks. For a moment he felt a little bit like Kevin in the movie _Home Alone_, except Ray was used to the momentary stinging the lotion caused.

Sweeping his long hair into a ponytail, he dressed in nice black dress pants and a collared shirt. Ray was satisfied with his looks. He wasn't too dressy, but not especially casual. Just right for going to see Christine's play.

Ray yelled to his mom that he was going out (not waiting for an answer), and drove himself to the high school auditorium, where he found a short line of people waiting to enter the small auditorium.

Tickets were reasonably priced at three dollars for students, so he bought one and went to sit down. He waited for several minutes before getting up again and sneaking out the side door of the auditorium, located behind the curtain.

There Ray found the dressing room, where all the cast members were putting on their costumes and makeup, and at once, found Christine.

His stomach fluttered at the sight of her; Christine was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her in the countess costume. Her lips were perfectly red. He silently wondered whether his own lips would turn crimson if he kissed her lips.

Fortunately for Ray, Christine was putting on her stage makeup in the corner of the room covered by a screen.

He strode over to her. "Hey Christine." He said softly.

She looked around cautiously. "What are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be in here! Mrs. Firmin will catch you and send you out, you know."

"I know, but I'll only be a minute."

He grabbed Christine's hands and pulled her up, so she was at her full height, and gently pulled her toward him.

Leaning down a little bit, Ray's lips were then touching Christine's. They started slow, and it made Ray realize how much more he wanted to do that was not appropriate for this particular setting.

She released herself from his hold and said, "I have to finish getting ready."

Christine's mind was racing, and what was going on in her head was: "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING??????" _You did kiss him back, remember_, she told herself. _How could you be so stupid?_

Ray finally left the room and Christine was alone with her thoughts of confusion.


	9. Christine on Stage, Finally!

Twenty minutes after Ray's unexpected appearance Christine was still reeling. She tried to cover her suddenly rosy cheeks with foundation. After deciding she looked as if she'd seen a ghost, and brushed some blush on.

She began to feel her stomach and the rest of her body fill up with butterflies. "Hey prima donna!" Meg teased as she walked into the dressing room. Somehow Meg's presence calmed Christine down, and made her relaxed.

"Hey! How are you holding up as the servant girl?"

Meg thought for a minute how she should answer this. "Well, at least I don't have half as many lines as you do, and if I go out of tune no one is going to care." She grinned mischeviously.

Christine playfully hit her friend's arm. "Sometimes I wish I could have your part, you know. If I make a mistake than people will remember it, but if you do, the audience wouldn't even notice."

Meg rolled her eyes. "You're always playing down your role. You'll have every guy in the room swooning at the sight of you."

Christine blushed and turned away. She knew she would have one guy watching every move she made, but Christine hadn't made up her mind about him. Ray seemed desperate. He acted as if he couldn't wait another second to kiss her. His way was hurried. Although somewhat enjoyable in that moment, Ray wasn't someone she was expecting to have a relationship with. It was someone else, however, that she wouldn't mind being kissed by…

"Five minutes, everyone!" Christine heard Mrs. Firmin call, interrupting her thoughts. Meg waved to her friend and walked away to finish getting ready.

Erik was pacing in his own dressing room, thinking about the performance, but also he thought about Christine. He knew for sure that she would do her best job, and he would be amazed. He just hoped that she could remember those few pointers he'd taught her.

Slipping out into the auditorium, he scanned the crowd for anyone he knew. The seats were starting to fill up now that it got closer to show time.

Then Erik saw him. There was Ray sitting in the second seat from the isle in the very first row. Erik fought back the urge to snarl angrily at him. Instead, he turned around and stalked back to the dressing room, his cape trailing behind him.

Finally it was time to go on stage. The crimson-colored curtain rose before Christine's eyes, and the spotlight from above settled on her. It just about blinded Christine as she tried to focus.

Looking at Mrs. Firmin at the piano, she took a breath. A deep, familiar voice in Christine's head crooned, "Let my opera begin!"

Erik swelled with pride as Christine began the song, noticing her confidence and intonation. "Well done my angel," Erik murmured to himself.

He kept his eye on Ray. _If that fop makes one false move I will personally wring his neck. I'll make sure he won't put his grimy little hands anywhere near Christine. _

The intermission came at 7:30, which was a little over an hour into the play. Ray yawned as the lights came back on, and he get up out of his chair to stretch. He wondered whether Christine had thought anymore about his offer. Ray was sure she was shocked, but he didn't know how she would take it.

No matter, he thought, she'll warm up to me in time.

With this thought of comfort, he let himself out into the parking lot to light a cigarette. He observed the plumes of bluish smoke float into the air, and as he did, Ray noticed a familiar car drive into the parking lot.

Even in the dim light Ray could make out the bright pink hue of the car's hood. The last time he'd looked, the car was a luxurious Lexus, a Sweet-Sixteen birthday present from Carla Visiovatti's parents.

Ray's eyes bulged.

Why in the world would Carla be here? He was under the impression she was still sick. Of course, this wasn't the first time she would have used that excuse. Anytime Carla hadn't studied enough for an upcoming test (or if she didn't want to take it at all), Carla would put on a very convincing sick impression, and would be sent home. Honestly, it was a wonder that teachers never caught Carla in the act. She was so sickly sweet all the time that no one ever noticed that she was obviously faking. Once out of the classroom, though Carla would brag about it.

"Carla?" Ray called into the air.

"Oh, Ray, darling. I could use some help getting out of my car." He rushed to her side. The door was open, and she was obviously having trouble getting the momentum to lift herself out of the car.

"Of course I'll help you," He said quickly, and put a hand out. She put pressure on his hand and pushed her way out easily. She was wearing a short, frilly skirt which flattered her long legs.

_Gulp_, thought Ray.

Instead of taking her hands off him as she should have done, Carla grabbed Ray's face in her hands, crushing her mouth to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed him close enough where she could smell and taste his warm breath.

Ray's eyes widened, but obviously he did not want to miss such a kiss, put vigor into kissing her back.

Suddenly, she broke away from him and gasped, "Ray, darling, I need your help. Mrs. Firmin has obviously thought about my leave from the school play curious. She even thought about replacing me with Christine. This can't go on!"

"Why should I help you? I see nothing wrong with Christine." Ray said honestly.

She narrowed her eyes. "You've fallen for her, have you?" Carla accused.

He shook his head. "Of course not. I just meant that its going to be hard to convince Mrs. F that you should be the lead. You did call in sick, remember?"

Carla smiled, obviously pleased. "So you'll help me, then?"

"Yes," He agreed.

Christine walked off the stage feeling very excited and pleased. She knew she had done well for her first night in a lead role. Several of her mother's friends had complimented her while she tried to hide her blushing rosy cheeks.

Mrs. Firmin had even jokingly called Christine a hero, a sentiment that Christine herself didn't entirely agree with, but accepted the compliment graciously.

There was still some nervousness in her system, but most of it had blown off due to all of the adrenolin she was running on now.

She could tell where she'd made a few mistakes; they were minor ones, hopefully not noticeable to the audience. She still vowed to correct them the following night at the show.

Christine looked around at the remaining cast, trying to catch a glimpse of Erik. She had hoped that he had showed up, even if it was to criticize her. In one part of her brain she dreaded him coming to see her. She knew he probably would have some complaint about her singing. But the larger part of her brain wanted him to congratulate her, and frankly didn't care what he said, as long as she got to see him at all.

She entered the dressing room with mixed feelings of happiness as well as gloom, but her train of thought was suddenly stopped short.

There on the vanity was one, lone crimson-red rose; its stem tied with a velvet black ribbon. She gasped. Putting a hand over her heart, she stumbled over to take a closer look.

She fingered the stem, still laden with a few unnoticed thorns, and the soft petals of the rose.

"Does it remind you of anything?"

Christine turned around, startled by the newcomer's voice.

She nodded, her words still holding the surprise of the moment. "The Phantom of the Opera gave Christine Daae a rose after her first performance at the Opera Populaire. He heard her from his catacombs."

"Exactly," Erik whispered, "the part you left out, though, was the Phantom of the Opera gave her that rose because he was in love with her."

Erik stepped closer to Christine, keeping his eyes locked on hers. She tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her. "Why is it that when I criticize you, you can look me straight in the face, but when I give you a compliment, you avert your eyes?"

"You were the one in my dream," Christine murmured, turning her face back to his. "The voice was yours singing to me," she realized.

"You… you dreamt about me?" Erik stammered.

"Yes. I didn't realize it at first. I thought I was seeing things. I thought that I was imagining Gerard Butler as a young man, but it wasn't him. It was you."

Before he had time to digest this, she stepped toward him. "Why do you always keep your bangs over your eye? It hides it. They're so dramatic." Christine touched his cheek and ran her fingers around the one visible eye.

"It's a long story." He said, struggling to speak while her hands were on his face. Erik's heartbeat sped up remarkably. Her hands were so small and delicate, in comparison with his own.

"I've got time," she said seriously.

He clutched her hand in his, drawing it away from his face. His expression was pained, and he looked away.

"I was adopted from France when I was nine. My biological mother had problems, too many for one person to deal with, and she was abusive. She hit me, and in one instance she brought a knife too close to my face. The result was several scars and welts over my eye and cheek. If I didn't hide it somehow, everyone would see the monster I am."

"Looks aren't everything." Christine whispered, touching his face again. She tried to push the hair away, but he backed up with the demeanor of a startled animal.

"No. Don't look. Please." For the first time she heard pleading in his voice. Potent fear glazed in his eyes. "If you see what's there, I know you will be frightened away. You'll leave me alone with myself."

Christine felt an ache inside her chest that she had never felt before. It grew in the pit of her stomach and rose up to create a lump in her throat. She could not speak; in fact, she felt as if she were going to cry.

" My father died when I was ten," She told him bravely. "He was just the opposite of your mother. He was one I shared everything with. In his last breath he told me the Angel of Music was going to guide me through life. He told me the angel would teach me to sing. " She looked into his eyes for a moment, hoping her words meant something to him.

Christine turned in the opposite direction and gathered her clothes to change. She didn't know how to explain what she was feeling, exactly. It was a mixture of sadness and confusion. Did Erik know what kind of powerful effect he had on her?

She never felt like this before, ever. But obviously he was more willing to hide from her than he was to give her the truth. Christine wanted to see what he feared most­– himself.

Christine was always the one to give people their privacy. She tried not to pry into their lives, and generally, she knew when she was going too far.

But this was something different. Now, she wanted to defy politeness and just look at him. She wanted it badly enough that several times during the night she considered calling him. If she showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, would he have answered her? Would he have given her that key to his heart?

No, she decided. He was going to keep his secret concealed inside himself. Obviously he wanted no one to discover what he was really like.

Erik kicked himself late into the night. He had a chance with Christine. It had been a really good chance to redeem himself, too. And what had he done? Gone and blown it!

He could blame it on her for changing the subject, for bringing that painful memory to her attention.

What he couldn't get out of his mind, though, were her eyes when he told her that. Erik felt something heavy being lifted off his shoulders, and that feeling he liked, but the weight he had heaved off had been transferred to her, somehow.

There was pity in her eyes. Sorrow and caring were there, too. He knew she cared about him. It was plain to see in her expressions.

Erik came into the dressing room expecting to kiss Christine and he left wondering how she felt at all. She'd said nothing to the affect of, "I love you" or even "Do you want to date me?"

Her actions were so timid and cautious, as if she were afraid to trespass onto foreign lines. When she touched him it didn't feel like lust, or even love, really. He thought of her actions as compassion, not love. Was it merely pity that drove her, or was it something deeper?

He told her not to touch him, and he even backed away when she did. Why had she honored his requests, and backed away? As much as he showed fear, he longed for someone to look, for someone to touch.

He was hoping that she would be the one to try to conquer it for him.


	10. Don Juan–Not So Triumphant

The meeting in the school dressing room had been strange for Erik. He tried to juggle his feelings and hers, and for sure he didn't want to hurt Christine. Erik decided upon his next move. He knew that Ray had his eyes glued on Christine, and if Erik wasn't careful, Ray might get to Christine first. That was one thought Erik could not bear to entertain.

Erik thought many times about calling Christine and asking her straight out whether she liked him or not. The little warning button went off in his head, telling him this would be a rash and stupid move.

Besides, what if she said she didn't like him? Then it would be all humiliation for him. He would go slink home in his car and stay locked up in his room until he could think of anything else to do.

Erik had just climbed in bed when another thought crossed his mind. He could try to impress her. He knew that she'd liked his piano playing, she'd said so herself, so why not write something for her? A poem, a song…

He jerked out of bed and switched on his desk light. Pushing all the papers aside, he reached for the notebook he kept in the first drawer of his desk. This was his composition notebook. Writing songs was something he adored, although he didn't think any of his original pieces were very compelling.

The notebook contained at least twelve half-finished songs and two or three completed ones. Erik had written several more but was frustrated with them, so he crumpled them up and threw them away.

Now, as just about anyone knows, you can't just decide to write an opera and stay up all night working on it. You had to have at least some idea of the plot line and the characters. You need to know what kind of songs would be appropriate for such an opera, and you have to make them believable enough to relate to an audience.

Erik decided to write some of the songs first, wondering what Christine would do if she heard and saw this opera– wait just one minute! What if Christine was the lead character in his opera?

The possibilities were endless! Smiling, Erik reached for a piece of paper and a lone piece of charcoal from his drawer, and he began to sketch.

First an oval shape glided its way onto the page, then a slender neck, and the outlines of shoulders. A torso, legs, and feet came next, looking more like lines and circles than actual parts of the body, but Erik refined them later. Proportions of her face were harder. If only he had a picture to compare his drawing to!

He added long wisps of hair to the otherwise bald sketch and attempted to outline her features. His final product, finished at 2 AM was astounding, for it looked almost like she could jump off the page at any second and start talking to him.

Once he cast the newly finished drawing aside, Erik picked up another piece of paper and sketched once again.

This time, he drew his sister, with her long, golden hair and slender body. Somehow drawing her was harder than drawing Christine. Who knew that it would be so difficult to draw someone that you have lived with for most of your 17 years?

Finally, he drew himself. There was a small hand mirror he had hidden in his desk, and reluctantly he pulled it out.

Before beginning, he stared at himself. Erik saw his wide, bleary eyes, his full lips, his dark hair. When he lifted the bangs off of his face, he felt a twinge of regret. Had he let Christine, she could have pulled them away and seen who he really was.

He stared at his exposed face, the angry scars and expanse of puffiness that had never gone away, even with at least ten years on them.

So if that was the case, why did Christine still want to be around him? She had to see something in him that encouraged her to stay near him. This thought enraged Erik, and he almost knocked over his bedside clock, but caught himself.

Sighing, Erik turned out his desk light and crawled back into bed, finally feeling exhausted.

The next day at school, the entire cast of the play was greeted with a wave of congratulations and praise, including a personal note over the PA system from the principal. After all, most of the school had showed up to see the play.

Christine was just trying to get through the day without blushing too much. She had seen Meg and Ray several times during the day, and in some non-explainable way, she felt even more alone than before.

Her conversation with Erik kept her ears ringing throughout the day. She regretted following his orders instead of planning her own agenda. More than anything she wanted to get under his skin.

She wanted to find out why he was so scared about his appearance. But he obviously wasn't listening when she told him that his appearance didn't matter to her.

Somehow she had to convince him once and for all. She felt so alone and confused, and that was the exact moment she saw Ray come up beside her.

She stiffened as he smiled at her. It looked as if he had just put in a set of plastic teeth. The smile was attempted to be warm, but the result was the opposite, and that's why Christine started to move away from him.

"Hi, Christine," He said.

"Hey. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you."

"I never saw you after the play the other night. What did you think of it?" She questioned.

"You were magnificent. The performance you gave was top-notch," He replied smoothly with a handsome smile to accompany it.

"Well, good. I'm glad you liked it." She walked a little faster so that he would have trouble catching up with her.

There was something that bugged her now about his demeanor. Long ago, Christine had dreamed of a man with such persistence. She dreamed that he could pursue her tirelessly. But, it turned out, that Ray's persistence, although sweet, was a little unnerving when you were caught thinking about someone else.

"Where are you going?" He asked, beginning to notice the distance she had put between them. She had walked away very quickly, he saw, and he couldn't figure out why.

Christine, after all, had kissed him back in the dressing room that night. If she hadn't been interested in him she wouldn't have strung him along, would she? No, his head told him, she'd never do something like that. She's not that type of person.

Suddenly an idea popped into his head. "I have something to show you in my locker. Why don't you come with me?"

Christine turned around with a bewildered look on her face. What in the world would he have in his locker for her?

"I've got a lot of homework, and a test to study for–" She protested, but he cut her off.

"Christine, don't worry, it will only take a minute. I promise. Then you can go home."

She considered this for a minute, and after scanning the hallways for any listeners, she agreed warily.

He could tell that she wasn't sure this was a good idea, but she did walk alongside him as they went.

Neither of them knew that they were being followed several feet back by none other than Erik Giry. He had eavesdropped on their conversation. A sinking feeling was forming in Erik's stomach, but he continued to pursue them as they walked.

Christine, he noticed, was acting very stiff and he wondered why she had agreed to come with Ray at all…was it guilt, or was it something else? Erik was about to find out in the next few minutes…

Erik listened as Christine and Ray talked their way down the hall, and as he did, he began to notice that Christine looked really good in that pair of jeans and her loose-fitting blouse.

Erik blushed in spite of himself and turned away.

If this was whom she wanted to be with, what choice did he have? If they were really dating, he couldn't just barge in and say, "Excuse me, you are dating my girlfriend, and get your damn hands off of her before I smash your face in."

He doubted that would receive a warm reception with either of them. In fact, he would probably get suspended for threatening them, or at least punished in another way.

They reached Ray's locker and the talking stopped. Erik peeked out from the corner he was hiding behind to see what was happening.

To his horror, Ray was leaning toward Christine, and Christine was starting to lean into him… No! How could this happen! Erik turned away and put his head in his hands. He could not bear to watch them kiss.

Erik sat there for a few more minutes cradling his head in his hands and wondering why he had ever bothered falling in love with Christine.

She was surprised at his forwardness. She didn't put it past him, mind you, but nevertheless, Christine was surprised. For half a second she panicked and contemplated running away. There was obviously no time for her to escape successfully, so she had to stand there.

Well, she told herself, now I can figure out whether I like him enough to date him any further, or whether I can call it quits.

One half of her brain told her to walk away; Ray was an impulsive jerk anyway, and he did not need her.

But the other half instructed otherwise. What if he was the only guy who was to ask her out? Would she be alone for the rest of high school, stuck in the corner at a dance by herself, dateless?

It was a little bit pathetic, her brain consented. You shouldn't be going out with someone if you didn't like them at all.

Really, you should look for someone else, even if he wasn't the most handsome or the most athletic or the smartest ; that shouldn't have to matter. It wasn't like any high school relationship has to go far enough to want to marry that person.

So when Ray leaned into Christine and brushed his lips against hers, she was still undecided on her course of action. Should she kiss him back, or should she pull away quickly like she had done the last time?

The short-term answer was to kiss him back and see the results. If she felt nothing then she would walk away. But if there was something there, she felt she had to explore it.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she put a little more force into the kiss. He took this as a good sign, and placed his hands in the pockets of her jeans. Uh oh. Now this was going too far.

Now what was she to do?

She pulled away again. "Ray, I think I should go. My mom will be worried about me."

"See you tomorrow," She said, walking in the opposite direction of Ray and his locker.

Christine felt even more confused and alone than she'd felt all day.

Her mom waved to Christine from the front seat of the bright red Dodge Neon she was driving. Apparently she had been through the carwash, since ordinarily her mom's vehicle was covered in dust from driving the country roads.

Christine smiled weakly as she opened the car door and pushed her backpack into the backseat of the car.

"Hi," Mrs. Darling greeted her daughter with a smile.

"Hey Mom, after I drop my stuff off at home, I need the car to go somewhere. I'd kind of like to be alone. No offense."

Her mother had begun to protest, but thought better of it. "All right. Are you okay, Honey? It seems like you haven't been yourself lately. Is it school stress, or is there a problem? If there is I will be more than glad to help you out with it–"

"I'm fine, Mom. It's just I need to be alone a little bit." She turned to look out the window.

Christine could see her mother look at her for a minute with the hint of worry on her face, then turn her head back to the wheel.

The rest of the car ride was silent, both of them afraid of saying something that would upset the other.

Christine and Mrs. Darling seldom argued, but when they did, the aftermath would be the most painful part of the argument, due to the stony silence Christine inflicted as painful punishment.

As promised, Christine unloaded her school books and backpack and retrieved the keys from the desk drawer.

"See you in a while, Mom. My cell phone is on if you need me, " She called, and without expecting or listening for an answer, Christine headed out into the garage.

Christine put the keys into ignition and listened for the revving of the engine. After slowly backing out of the driveway, Christine headed out of her subdivision and snapped on the radio.

Flipping channels did nothing for her; if anything, it made her more frustrated. And when Christine was frustrated, she did the only thing she could think of to do.

The Versailles cemetery was located on top of a tall, grassy hill surrounded by a prim black fence.

Headstones were scattered all over the hill, some tall and thin, but others were small and wide.

Christine had stopped at a local flower shop and bought a bouquet of roses. Immediately she thought of the rose given to her with the black velvet ribbon tied on the stem, which led into thinking about Erik.

She sighed as she searched the rows of headstones for Anton Darling. Finally she glanced at the one with an engraved sketching of her father's face. He had a long, narrow face with penetrating eyes and high cheekbones.

Christine ran her fingers over the engraving. "Her father promised her the angel of music…" Staring at the gravestone she placed her other hand on the smooth surface.

"Help me, Daddy," She strained to say, feeling her eyes filling up with tears.


	11. The Point of No Return

A little past midnight on the following Wednesday Erik reached his high point of writing, and was able to put the finishing touches on the opera: _When To Leave Good Enough Alone. _

It wasn't necessarily the most traditional opera he'd ever written (or seen on stage) but this was a piece of work he could definitely be proud of. It was impressive, first of all that he'd been able to write a whole opera by himself.

After the situation he'd encountered with Christine and Ray, his project became more pressing. He forced his anger and frustration of seeing the love of his life with someone else. It made his blood boil.

The music was the easiest part of the process. He knew exactly how he wanted the notes to be presented. Erik contemplated fishing his electric keyboard out of his closet and banging on it, but then remembered his mother and his sister were still sleeping.

Now that all of the hard work was done, Erik focused his attention on the casting choices. He knew that Christine would be the lead from the first time he had considered the idea.

As much as he didn't like the guy, he figured that Ray should play the part of the other lover. Erik wanted him to be cast as the stupid, foppish lover that the main character chooses over the smarter guy.

Unlike in real life, the foppish lover betrays the lead actress and she leaves him, confused, and eventually comes to love the other man.

If only Christine could see what he felt for her, maybe she would understand and come back to him…

He just couldn't help it. Maybe this piece of work would help her understand him. But the first step was to go to Mrs. Firmin and beg her to allow the school to perform the opera.

Mrs. Firmin came into work early on that Wednesday, a cup of Starbucks coffee in her right hand and her briefcase in the other. Reaching into her pocket for the keys, she noticed a stray light on in the library, and peered into the large, otherwise dark room.

She noticed that the solitary light was focused in the center of the room, focused on one single table.

Mrs. Firmin's brown furrowed. How could someone have gotten into the library without a key? Well, okay, she admitted, the person could have gone to the office and requested a key, but as far as she knew, the office wasn't open this early in the morning.

If it was a student that had entered the library, he or she wouldn't have been able to get the key unless they had permission directly from a teacher. Or the student could have used a bobby pin to pick the lock.

From personal experience, there were not many people who picked a lock to get into the _library_, of all places.

No matter, she thought, finally finding the keys. I just hope they didn't steal anything… As far as she could tell, the computers were still there and it wasn't likely that there were books lying all over the floor.

Turning the key, she entered the room, propping the door open with the wooden wedge she usually kept near the right side of the door.

Mrs. Firmin cautiously crept to the table, expecting there to be someone hiding or waiting for her. Call her paranoid, but she did work in a school, and she had to be wary of disobedient students who decided that scaring the librarian would be a funny prank.

She found a note on the table attached with a paperclip to a large stack of paper. The note read:

_Mrs. Firmin,_

_I have written you an opera. I wish to ask your permission for the school to perform. I wish to keep my identity secret until you agree to rehearse the play._

_My casting choices are included here, but feel free to make as many changes as are necessary to make this opera a success. Here I have brought the finished score_: Leave Well Enough Alone. _I have a few instructions before rehearsals start:_

_Carla must be taught to act! Not prancing around the stage like a ballerina. _

_As for our star, Christine Darling: No doubt she'll do her best, its true her voice is good, she knows. But should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn. If pride will let her return to me, her teacher…_

_Thank you for considering my proposal. If you agree to producing this opera, leave a note for me before you close the library. I will pick it up and reply within good time._

_I will remain your faithful and obedient servant,_

_S.G._

Mrs. Firmin looked up from the letter for a minute, trying to process what she'd just read. It was so unexpected. She had never known a high school student had so much dedication and confidence in their work to even think about submitting it to the head of the drama department.

Recovering from the shock, she picked the stack of papers up and placed them carefully under her left arm to go the next four feet to her desk. She switched on the lights and began to more thoroughly examine the document.

In fact, she was so engrossed in reading it that she didn't hear a student come in. He was clearing his throat impatiently to get her attention. Andrea Firmin just about jumped five feet in the air from the shock.

She had never been so compelled by a student's work that she couldn't stop reading it. There were more students in the library today than usual, so she couldn't concentrate for long without having to yell at several students for playing games or checking their MySpace accounts when they were supposed to be doing research.

Often times she also had to help kids locate books when they missed the signs three feet in front of them.

The next most available time for her to read the manuscript was during her lunch hour, while eating a small plate of salad from the cafeteria.

This was getting ridiculous; Mrs. Firmin had laughed and cried in front of students waiting in line to get their books checked out.

She couldn't help it, though! She emphasized with Aaron, the heartbroken main character whose crush, Lisa, went out with someone else.

No, Mrs. Firmin decided, it wasn't strictly original, but the author of the opera definitely knew how to write dialogue, and she was positive the musical score would be sublime for such a storyline. She had little musical ability, believe it or not, but she could tell a good score when she saw it.

When the school day ended, she put a call into the principal, and left a message.

Erik, at that point was looking through the reference books, pretending to look for something. He smiled as he listened to her message to the principal. She was interested! He wanted to do a dance around the library.

He had seen Christine today, but there wasn't nearly as much spring in her step as he usually saw in her. He wondered what exactly had happened to make her down in the dumps.

Of course, he hoped that she was glum because Ray had broken up with her, or done something to disappoint her, but he knew that was not fair. If it was meant to be, what was the point?

Erik was trying to discourage these gloomy thoughts when he saw several girls over in the corner of the library giggling and whispering in urgent, hushed tones, while trying to glance his way discreetly.

This was odd, Erik thought, shrinking below one of the library shelves to look at a book. Out of the corner of his eye, he still thought he saw someone else with a curious expression on his face, watching Erik cautiously. It was as if they were worried he might pop out at any second and lunge at their throats, or something equally dangerous and terrifying.

In the hallways people were minding their distance when they saw him. What the heck was happening here? Was there a huge bug on his face that everyone saw but no one commented on? Had an eye popped out and he hadn't noticed?

This condescending look was usually reserved for the "losers" of the school, including those with tacky outfits and oversized glasses given by the A list crowd when they were feeling especially ruthless.

Erik was, admittedly, less than popular and hardly well-liked. He had few friends and kept to himself mostly, but he had never been examined like this before in his life.

"No way!" One girl in the hallway shrieked loudly in the hallway. "I thought that only happened in horror movies where they want millions of dollars and that's the only way they can get the money!"

Erik hid on the floor between the crevice of one wall and another. This will be interesting, he thought.

"Apparently he lured her into his car and took her to his house. He wouldn't let her leave, so I've heard," another girl boasted in her confident matter-of-fact way.

From his position on the floor, he could see the small circle of friends shaking their heads in disapproval.

"Did they catch him?" Yet another girl asked. Her voice was squeaky and high-pitched.

"No. He's denied it profusely, but I'm not sure the police will believe him." The first girl said, again exuding her overconfidence.

Then Erik heard the tell-tale signs of high heeled shoes clicking down the hallway, attached to the most powerful girl in school. "Hello everyone, I thought I might join you."

Chatter ceased at Carla's presence. The sight of her brought fear and awe to the masses. Boys couldn't keep their eyes off her gorgeous figure, but girls couldn't stand to look into Carla's potent icy blue eyes.

"What are we discussing?" She asked calmly, apparently not noticing the crowd around her was avoiding her gaze silently.

"The kidnapping.of Christine Darling."

Principal Phillip Green returned to his desk after a long day of patrolling the halls, visiting classrooms, and meeting with juvenile delinquents regarding their poor behavior.

He was a rather large man with a protruding, round belly, and short stubby arms and legs. His feet ached, and he longed to once again lounge in his soft , squishy rolling chair and prop his tired feet on the edge of the desk.

Mr. Green shut the door to his office and sighed gustily. He noticed the mountains of paper lying on his desk and decided it would be best to begin work again. Although tired, he was determined to get the rest of the work done for the day so he would not have to worry his wife and three young sons about it.

Above the mountain of papers, he glanced in the direction of his phone. A bright red light was flashing, indicating a message.

Reaching for his coffee–stale by now, due to such a long absence– he listened to the message:

"Phillip, this is Andrea Firmin. I found an opera manuscript, as weird as that sounds, in the library today. I've been reading it throughout the day, and although I don't know whom the author is, it's the most compelling thing I've read in a while. Uh, I would really appreciate it if you could look at it and make sure we are able to perform it for our spring musical. My extention is 232. Thanks. Bye."

Mr. Green looked at the phone, as if expecting it to ask, "well, are you going to call her back, or are you going to just sit there?"

"Quite an interesting message. I've never heard of such a thing," He told the telephone quietly.

He picked up the receiver and dialed.

"Andrea?"

"Yes? Hello Phillip. Did you get my message?" She sounded as if she had just taken a sip of something and was struggling to swallow before making her next comment.

"Yes, I did. Your message was curious, I must admit. I am not sure what to make of an opera submitted by a student. I suppose we would have to get it approved by the school board before we could promise anything, but the concept is intriguing."

"I dare say it is," Mrs. Firmin mused.

She paused for a moment, and there was a momentary silence. Mr. Green opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, "I can drop the manuscript off today if you like. Maybe a fresh eye would do it good. I am almost finished, so I'll bring it over at around 2. That's my planning time."

"All right. Thank you. I'll see you at two. Good bye, Andrea." He hung up in his curt fashion and set the phone back in the cradle.

Several minutes later, Mr. Green heard a curious noise coming from the office.

Reluctantly, he left his chair slowly and went to the door. At its opening, he saw a tall dark-haired boy struggling in the arms of two teachers.

The boy said nothing but he attempted to wriggle free of their strong hold.

"What in the world happened here?" Mr. Green asked in horror.

"I wrote him up, Mr. Green. He tried to attack several girls, and one of them was holding her nose with blood streaming from it."

Mr. Green frowned. In such a small school, fights were a rarity, compared with defacement and vandalism. "Come into my office," He said.

Once the door was shut, Mr. Green shut the door and the two men holding the boy released him and went toward the door.

To Mr. Green's shock and amazement, the boy broke into sobs, covering his face in his hands. The force was so great that Mr. Green and the other teachers could see his shoulders shaking. He scarcely made a sound.

In all his years as both an educator and an administrator Mr. Green had never witnessed a young man crying before. He didn't know exactly how to process the situation, and simply waiting until the sobs started to subside before proceeding.

"What is your name, young man?" Mr. Green. He had never been good with remembering names, nor was he apt at giving sympathy.

"Erik Giry." He said, finally, looking at the principal with one eye covered by a hair, the other was bloodshot and puffy.

"Is your mother­–"

"The French teacher, yes." He said miserably.

"I am going to call her and alert her as to the situation." He said, reaching for the phone. Once the call was made, Mr. Green looked at Erik.

"Can you tell me what happened, please?"

Erik sighed, cleared his throat.

He heard the girl say Christine's name. Heat rose to his face and his fists clenched in rage. Before he knew it, he was off the ground and stalking toward the group of girls. The look in his eyes was menacing, almost feline; his pupils became slits.

Carla, he remembered, taunted him with a mocking message. It was a part of her cool, believable façade. Somewhere, he knew there was fear. Her words enraged him.

"Madam, I believe it is you who are the toad. Remember that," He whispered before plunging his fist into her face. Her nose was bleeding and broken.

Unfortunately for Erik two teachers were coming down the hall at that exact moment, rushing toward him, ties flying.

Uh oh. Erik was caught. For a second he froze, trying to encourage his frozen brain to think of a plan.

Instead of waiting for them to catch up with him, he bolted. The panic in his lungs threatened to cut off his oxygen supply, but he kept running, straight into the women's bathroom.

Heart racing, Erik listened for the voices of the two teachers.

"Where do you think he went?" One asked.

Erik smiled from inside the stall. They would never find him in here. Erik looked at the surroundings. So this is what the inside of the girls' bathroom looked like…

His heart stopped as he heard her voice.

Erik watched through the crack as Christine leaned toward the mirror, giving him a view of her face. Then just as quickly, she disappeared into one of the stalls.

Watching carefully, he snuck out of the girl's bathroom unscathed– until he saw the two teachers standing outside with their hands on their hips.

"What were you hiding in there for?" One of them asked.

Erik didn't answer, he sprinted again, but this time they didn't fall for the trick. They caught both of his arms squarely, applying iron grips and leading him in the direction of the office.

His heart sank. What else did he expect? That was usually the punishment for punching someone in school. He would probably get a suspension for several days.

Now he sat in the chair and felt a little lightheaded. All of the physical fatigue had caught up with him, exhaustion setting in quickly.

Mrs. Giry came rushing into the room, shutting the door. Noting the grim expressions of the principal and other teachers, she knew this was not a good situation.

Erik was sentenced to a three-day suspension as well as submitting a written apology to Carla Visiovatti.

Well, it could have been worse, Erik supposed. On the ride home, his mother was visibly furious.

"What did you think you were doing, Erik? You know the consequences. You can't take everything so literally, son. Who knows if they were telling the truth? If they were just trying to stir up trouble, they did a very good job of it." She shook her head.

Erik looked at his shoes. "I didn't mean it, Mama. I couldn't control my temper. You know how it is with me."

His mother looked in his direction but didn't seem to see him. Anger glinted in her green eyes. "We'll discuss this later."


	12. Man Behind the Mask

"How do you know he's looked at the opera?" Carla asked incredulously, sitting on her living room couch next to Ray.

By the weekend almost half of the school knew that the administrators were deciding whether to promote the performance of the opera or not. When Carla found out about it from Ray, she was ecstatic.

A few days after her incident with Erik, Carla had a bandage around her nose and was still being instructed to carry nose drops with her everywhere. At first, she refused, saying it would be a hassle to carry them around, and they would tarnish her reputation, but after a few days of having a running nose, Carla decided it would be best to just deal with it.

"Because I heard Mr. Green talking to the secretary about the play. He said it's brilliant, but he doesn't want such a new actress in the lead. He wants someone else."

Ray looked to Carla. "That's not up to him to decide, but it's what you wanted, right?"

"Of course it is! Christine doesn't deserve the role, and I do, obviously. I've been in every play since I was about five. They know I'm the best, anyway."

"You know," Ray pointed out, " Mrs. Firmin was pretty upset when she had to cast someone new for the lead role when you were sick. How is she going to let you do it now if you can't prove to her that she can trust you with such a big part?"

"You're right. I've got to do something to convince her, save throwing Christine off of the highest cliff I can find." She laughed at the ridiculousness of the thought. Her laugh was shrill and didn't sound pleasant at all.

Christine had heard several rumors throughout the day and wondered why the school was suddenly abuzz. It was strange how they could continue to talk constantly… as if the news was new every time they talked about it.

Besides, she hadn't seen Erik at all today. That was strange… she was so accustomed to seeing him that when she didn't, she felt her heart sink. What was it about him that made her heart speed up?

Was it his charm and wit? No, unfortunately. Unlike the fictional characters she read about, Erik was completely the opposite. His attitude was dark and brooding. He seemed to get upset easily.

Christine could not figure out why he wanted to hide so much. Was he that he was so self-conscious he didn't want people to see his vulnerability?

Christine shook her head in disgust. She saw Meg walking in the opposite direction, and changed course to meet up with her friend. Besides, maybe it would help her clear her head.

"Hey Meg," Christine called. "I haven't seen you much."

"I could say as such for you," She replied with a smile.

"So, what's up?"

"Our mom is really cracking down on the rules at home. She was never very strict before, but now she's starting to have curfews, and she asks us these penetrating questions, like 'did anything interesting happen at school today?' She says it accusingly, and with this a stern and very creepy look on her face that tells us not to mess with her– or else."

"That's a little strange," Christine said. "What would have provoked her to do those things?"

Christine knew Mrs. Giry. She was usually a gentle and kind woman who smiled easily and let her children act as they pleased. Something drastic must have happened to promote such stifling measures…

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Meg's eyes widened.

"Heard what?" Christine's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Erik was suspended for three days last week. He apparently punched Carla out. She had a broken nose."

"Wait…this is Erik we're talking about?" Christine asked in shock. She didn't see Erik as a violent person. Well, she allowed, he had punched Carla. That must have meant that she had said something to make him angry.

Meg nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. My brother doesn't seem like the one to go after people when he gets angry, but he was just so agitated that he couldn't contain himself, according to him anyway. I don't know the whole story, but it sure seemed like Carla provoked him on purpose."

"Yes, that's something that Carla would do," Christine agreed. "So, he's suspended for three days?"

"Yeah. For the first two he stayed in his room and moped for a while. I came home from school on the second day and I told him he had better shape up. He was beginning to act like a wimp on drugs or something. After that he wasn't crying or moping."

"Sister's touch." Christine smiled.

"I wish it worked all the time. If he did then we'd have a lot fewer fights. Oh well, you can't have everything." She said.

Meg was approaching the hallway of her first classroom. "See you after school, Christine. I'll tell my brother you said hi. I'm sure it would brighten his day."

"Yep. See ya." With that they went their separate ways.

Indecision plagued Christine all day. She knew she wanted to see Erik, but she was afraid Erik's mother would be there to scold her for coming to visit her son. She wanted to see him but she also dreaded it.

Christine struggled with the thought of consequences. She tried to talk herself out of the notion, but finally when she could stand it no longer, Christine looked up Erik's address. She contemplated calling first to make sure he would be there, but she decided not to. Christine knew she would lose her nerve if she did.

After lying to her mother, Christine started the car and pulled out of the driveway, consulting her Map Quest print out for directions.

She clenched the wheel with tight hands as she tried to stay calm. Christine told herself she was just concerned for his wellbeing. She missed him at school, and it unnerved her.

But there was an undercurrent of something stronger. She was afraid to admit her feelings in those many words, though. She'd read so many romantic stories where the characters had these nervous feelings before they saw the person they were in love with, but she dismissed them quickly.

_This can't happen in real life_, she told herself. _Get a grip. You are just going to see a good friend._

With a good friend, though, you don't get nervous and worry what you will say.You don't imagine kissing a good friend. You simply enjoy each other's company and at the end of the evening you don't need a good night kiss.

_Come on Christine, get a hold of yourself_. You don't even know if he feels the same way for you. He could totally dismiss it and then you would be back to square one.

Three different times Christine almost turned around and went home. By the time she reached Erik's neighborhood it was nearly eight o'clock . The sun had gone down several hours ago and it was getting a little darker every minute she waited. For comfort Christine pictured a beautiful sunrise, where the sky turned a pale pink, along with orange, purple and blue.

For several moments it took her mind off of her task. Finally she reached the Giry house. One lone streetlight provided light on their street.

She could see dark green bushes framing the house. A brick pathway lead the way to the crème-colored front door.

Christine took a deep breath and opened the car door. _Here's your chance. Don't blow it. _

Walking on jelly legs, Christine miraculously made it to the front door. She rung the doorbell and waited as she heard yelling and clamoring before someone came to the door.

It was Meg. "Hi, Christine." She looked surprised.

Now Christine regretted not calling.

"Hi. Is your mom home?" Christine asked in a whisper. Meg looked at her as if she was crazy.

"What are you doing?"

"I know this is crazy and weird, but I want to see Erik. I'm sorry I didn't call, either…"

"Make it quick. If Mom sees you, she will freak."

Erik almost jumped a foot and a half when he heard the doorbell ring. The last time that had happened was when the mailman delivered a package addressed for his mother; and that was last Friday.

Erik didn't have many friends, and he knew that people who came over were mostly friends of Meg's. She was so popular compared to him! She didn't spend much time in her room like he did, nor did she sit around and write operas when she was lost for something to do.

He was becoming bored out of his skull. His opera was finished. He'd exhausted all the books on his bookshelf and started looking for typos, starting to rewrite sentences he didn't like.

Erik was banned from the computer and TV, so searching for new ideas for stories was out, as was listening to his playlists or updating his iPod.

He tried to write every day in a small leather-bound journal he stole from his sister, but always ended up daydreaming instead.

In one respect the time off was nice. His responsibility was to sit and wait it out until he was allowed to go back to school. This was supposed to be a punishment, though, which he only remembered when he wasn't lost in a book or asleep dreaming of better days.

Meg came to the top of the stairs and yelled to him to come down stairs. He had a guest, she said. Erik had no idea who this guest might be, since, again, he didn't have many friends.

Erik trudged down the stairs gloomily, expecting the unexpected visitor to be someone from the Chess Club soliciting something as a fund-raiser.

He got the surprise of his life when he saw Christine Darling standing there in the front hall of his house. Erik's eyes widened, as if he'd just seen a room covered in gold coins.

"I'll leave you two alone," Meg said suggestively, moving her eyebrows up and down as she spoke.

Both Erik and Christine glared at her, but Meg had already turned her back on them and had begun walking along the hallway into the kitchen.

"Hi," Christine said nervously. _Oh damn it! I'm going to look like an idiot standing here with nothing to say. _

"Hi," Erik replied, "I wasn't expecting you to drop by. Do you want to start up singing lessons again? I don't know if I told you before but you really are improving." There was a bitterness in his tone, a twinge of something Christine did not like.

"No, I didn't come over for that, although it would be nice to start that up again. I… wanted to ask you something. Why don't we go outside . Meg is probably listening right around the corner."

Christine peered down the hallway to see a sliver of Meg's head peeking out behind the wall. "I see you Meg," Christine said.

Meg giggled. "Alright, I'll leave you two in peace. It's so fun to eavesdrop, though."

Erik flipped on the outside light switch and held the door open for Christine. He sent a menacing glare toward his sister and followed Christine on to the porch.

"So, what did you want to ask me?"

Christine paused for a moment, deciding on a question. "Why didn't you want me to see your face the last time? Are you scared I'm going to run away in fear? Or are you just self-conscious? I understand if you are, I know what that feels like, believe me. I just want to know."

She was babbling. Anything to keep her brain from thinking forbidden thoughts– like how much she wanted to touch his face, or kiss his lips…

Erik looked at her. He couldn't be angry with her, really he couldn't. She was curious. She wanted to know why he kept himself hidden.

"Well, it's not easy to describe, Christine. I'm a monster. Even the kids at the orphanage thought so. People were afraid of my face– they were afraid to touch it, and heaven knows they didn't want to look at it. Scars are too much for people. They don't want to see the pain and anguish those scars bring on.

"Maman came to the orphanage when I was nine. She came looking for a son, and as she looked around the room, I could see the man from the orphanage discourage her of choosing me. Yet she ignored him and signed the paperwork to adopt me. I never found out why she chose me; she doesn't speak of my adoption much anymore, but there must have been an element of pity hidden in her reasoning. Who in their right mind accepts someone who has been beaten?"

Christine was silent for a moment. His words hit her hard.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why do you hide?" She asked.

She could see anger bubbling in his eyes. "I am a monster, Christine. You haven't seen it–"

"Then let me see. It will only get worse. If I can't handle your looks, I'll just go. I'll leave you alone to wallow in your own self-pity."

"It's not like that," Erik said, raising his voice. "You don't understand."

"I don't understand because you won't let me understand. I can take on some of your pain, you know. I am strong enough. My father died when I was ten. He was taken away from me by cancer, a merciless disease that shatters homes and families."

Erik softened a little. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She brushed it away with a wave of her hand. "That isn't the point. My point is that I know what it feels like to be hopeless. It clouds your view of everything. Don't let it, Erik. Don't let it."

They were silent again for a long moment. Christine looked Erik in the face, and she stepped closer.

She raised a hand to his face and brushed back his bangs. Erik squeezed his eyes shut, looking like he had tried to swallow a sour lemon whole.

Christine laughed. "Open your eyes, Erik. I am not going to run away, all right? I promise."

He opened one, examining her face. It was serious. She was telling the truth!

Christine forced herself to look into his face. She took in the rough scars and welts covering his face. She ran a finger over the curves and ridges, wincing occasionally.

"What?" He asked, noticing how she shied back.

"These look like they hurt. Did they?" Concern colored her features­. It was not pity, it was not fear, nor was it any other emotion he'd seen on people's faces when they saw him.

Her feelings appeared genuine, and for that Erik was very thankful.

"Yeah, they did hurt. But at that time I was concerned more with getting away from my biological mother than on the pain. I knew if she were drunk she would do it as many times as she could."

Christine shook her head. "I can't imagine having a mother like that. My own is so good to me that I could never see her beating me."

She looked away for a minute, staring out into the darkness of the night. In that split second, Erik made a decision. It's now or never, he thought.

Erik knew that Christine liked him. He knew that now she knew more about him than most other people did, but that did not guarantee that she loved him, or even entertained the idea.

Convincing himself to do what he did next did not take guts or courage: it took only an ounce of hope.

"Christine? Thank you for listening." He stepped closer to her, feeling his heart speed up considerably.

She watched him curiously, wondering what he would do next. She too stepped closer.

"You're welcome." She brought her mouth to his, gently. She felt his warm breath on her cheeks as she leaned in.

Erik saw his moment slipping away. He came the small distance between them and brushed his lips against hers. Electricity flowed through him, as she brought her hand to his jawline, stroking the rough curves and ridges of his face.

He placed both of his hands on her face, and moved them to her hair. He saw her nod in approval when he wrapped a curl around his finger.

She kissed deeper and he followed along. When he felt her stepping backward, his hand moved to her waist and pulled her toward him, cradling her gently with both arms. He felt her body become aligned with his.

Erik had craved this feeling for so long, and now it was finally here. His answer was given to him when she kissed him, he knew that much. She obviously was feeling the same way he was.

Erik didn't know the depth of this feeling yet, but he hoped and prayed that he would find out soon.

Christine pulled away for a minute and took a breath. She smiled and ran her fingers over his face again.

This time when she came close, Erik kissed her sweetly until her lips were numb.

Christine's brain was exploding with happiness and she couldn't imagine a better evening in her entire life. Erik, had he been asked, would have said virtually the same thing.


	13. Planning, Plotting, and a Beginning

Mr. Green looked back at the opera's manuscript after finishing reading it. He, like Mrs. Firmin, was astonished at the professionalism of the unknown student who submitted it. He'd never seen such prose in his life. They simply had to perform it.

Sitting at his office chair again, he pondered the best course of action. He knew that while Christine Darling was a gifted actress, there were better choices for such a role. Frankly, he thought, she hadn't proved her worth quite yet.

Mr. Green stroked his mustache, springing to life with an idea. He reached for a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen and began to write a message to Mrs. Firmin. Then, when he had finished he called a student who was standing outside to take the letter to the library.

The student was Carla Visiovatti. Of course, Mr. Green did not know this because of his difficulty remembering names.

Carla grinned almost evilly once she had left the office. The seal on the letter was poor, so Carla could easily pry it open with her fingers. Lifting the letter out of the envelope, she read:

_Andrea,_

_I have had the opportunity to read the manuscript of_ When To Leave Good Enough Alon_e, and I agree that this is a musical experience we should not overlook. _

_However, the anonymous author made some casting choices I do not believe are fitting. For example, Christine Darling, although tremendously talented, is new to the high school stage. If she wishes to be a regular, she should practice before taking on such a large and prestigious role in this opera._

_That being said, I believe Carla Visiovatti is a better choice for the female lead, and I think you should contact her immediately to discuss her position and ask whether she is interested in taking the role._

_Ray DeChagny has never been on stage, to my knowledge, and so if you choose to cast him, make sure he is up to the challenge. I have never heard him sing, so I suppose I cannot pass judgment in that regard, but I have seen his juvenile record, and I would recommend sitting him down for a serious talk. If you do not feel comfortable with this, I can do you the honor._

_A few other small items to consider: the organ is a prominent instrument in the performance of the play and I urge you to find a substitute for such grandeur that is more cost effective._

_The set pieces required for this play are intricately designed and I would presume they would take an ample amount of time to construct and decorate. My advice would be to start building them as soon as you have a cast together. I fear if you do not, they will not be finished in time for the play._

_I hope you will consider my recommendations and I look forward to meeting with you to discuss the options this wonderful work presents for the school and its students._

_Warmly,_

Phillip Green

Principal, Versailles High School

As Carla read over the contents of the letter, she couldn't help but smile in delight. Things were playing out in her favor, and for that she planned to thank the principal when she was officially invited to join the cast.

Carla entered the library and placed the letter on the checkout counter near where Mrs. Firmin was sitting.

"Here's a letter from Mr. Green regarding the opera," Carla announced, causing Mrs. firmin to look up. She frowned and read the letter. Carla turned her back and walked away, not noticing Mrs. Firmin's disgusted expression when she had finished reading it.

_How does he think he can make these suggestions when he's probably never been to one of the school productions_? She thought angrily. At every one she'd looked around the auditorium for him, but she never saw him anywhere. His ideas were based on rumors, then, not actual knowledge of talent.

Mrs. Firmin decided then to ignore the principal's orders and develop a cast that worked in everyone's favor, not just those who were straight-A students.

Although she did not know Ray very well, whenever he entered the library he seemed friendly enough. He would talk lively to other students and help them whenever he could. So why would the principal be so hesitant about allowing Ray to participate? He had said something about a juvenile record in the letter…

She would have to ask Ray directly about it.

Mrs. Firmin put these thoughts aside and began to consider the preparations she needed to make for advertising the play. They would need a few PA announcements to remind students that they could try out, plus a few posters in the hallways wouldn't hurt.

She planned to announce the plan to her drama club later that afternoon, showing each of them the manuscript that had captivated her.

Carla and Ray sat on a bench outside the local Dairy Queen, silently licking their ice cream cones. Ray had offered the trip after long hours of scheming and plotting on both of their parts.

"The plan is in the works," Carla remarked. "Mr. Green doesn't think Christine is good enough to make the play work with her as the lead, which is fortunate for us. But I know Mrs. Firmin better than that. She is going to go against his wishes and try to cast Christine as the lead. We've got to find a way to convince her that I am better."

Ray was silent for a minute before commenting, "You could try to frame her. Cause a commotion and make it appear as if she was a part of it although we both know she didn't."

Carla's eyes immediately widened and a large evil grin spread across her face as the wheels began turning in her head.

"You have to be a part of this one." Carla demanded, pointing one of her fingers in Ray's direction. "I've noticed that Erik was very defensive about his precious Christine. Maybe if you begin to court her, Christine will come around." She thought through the nearly endless possibilities, deciding to leave the options for later.

She had to think more carefully how to trap Christine so she wouldn't be able to get away this time.

"I tried before, but she seemed preoccupied. What other tactics are there?" Ray pleaded, feeling helpless.

"Besides, Principal Green is going to find out some way or another that we had something to do with this. We go to a small school and finding the culprits is not difficult, remember?"

Carla considered this. She finished her ice cream cone and tossed the paper wrapper and the spoon into the near-by trashcan.

"On old pirate ships some of the sailors would sign mutiny petitions protesting the captain or other matters, but they signed them so there was no clear leader. If they were found," Carla paused, shaking her head, "They were most likely killed or released from the ship crew. We have to create a rebellion without a leader, so to speak."

"How did you know that?" Ray asked a little incredulously. He had never expected Carla to know as much as she did. He was under the impression that she was not the smartest light in the harbor, but she surprised him.

Carla flashed a mischievous grin. "I do read more than anyone thinks."

Ray nodded. "Yes, I suppose you do."

"Do you know the Music Man?" She asked.

Ray thought for a moment, brow furrowed. He wasn't a person who liked to watch sappy chick-lit movies or musicals. He preferred sports and MTV to old-fashioned theater and movies.

"This traveling salesman comes to a small town and tries to start a boy's band, but he has to stir up some trouble to convince the townspeople that they need one. Again, we need to spread word throughout the school that Christine has done some less than moral things. That surely will convince Mrs. Firmin that I am the better choice for the role."

"All right, " Ray agreed. "How are we going to do that if Christine is the picture of wholesome, good-meaning girls? I mean, she gets straight A's, she's polite and everything."

"You're half in love with her already," Carla said rolling her eyes. "I suppose you will have to find the hole in her persona and dig deeper." Carla got up off of the bench.

Batting her eyelashes flirtatiously Carla pulled Ray off the bench and wrapped her arms around Ray.

"Ray darling, I know you have a way with women that cannot be beat. You'll find a way to seduce her." She didn't even give him a chance to respond before kissing him fully on the lips.

She knew what kind of effect she had on him. Bribery was the best way to win his heart and get him to do what she wanted. Plus, maybe being with Ray would convince Don Piangi, her ex-boyfriend, to reconsider breaking up with her.

Carla pulled away and reached for her purse, still the picture of a very flirtatious teenage girl who always gets what she wants.

Christine saw Erik the next day, her heart rate becoming erratic. The memories of the night before came flooding right back to her.

"Hi Erik," Christine said quietly.

"Hi Christine," He replied, lightly nudging her hand with his.

As much as she wanted Erik around, she wasn't sure exactly how to begin this relationship. Yes, she'd taken music lessons from him and she'd kissed him, but she wasn't sure they were ready to be a couple yet. Were they? Did he expect that they would, or was he just curious?

In the chaos of the hallway Christine didn't especially want to broach the subject just yet. I'll wait for him to make the first move, she thought.

"So, how was your night?" He had a mysterious look in his eyes, half way between mischievous and flirtatious.

"Fairly uneventful. I sat at home and watched TV all night," Christine teased and touched his arm. His body reacted at her touch, but didn't let himself show that side. "I didn't go out at all."

He smiled. "Me neither. I didn't see anyone at all. Except this girl who came by trying to sell something, I think."

She laughed. "So now you think I'm selling something?"

"Yeah," he replied pausing to pretend to think. "I think she was selling something obscure like goat cheese." He grinned widely.

"You're cute when you are happy, although your humor is a little strange. I'll take it though." Christine said with a smile.

His heart sang in his chest. "If you'll take a day off of selling goat cheese, would you like to come to dinner with me on Friday?" He asked, trying to appear as calm as he could muster.

"Are you asking me out?" She asked, the teasing air returning.

"Yeah," He admitted a little sheepishly.

"It's a deal." She said. "What time?"

"Six-thirty?" He suggested.

Christine nodded. "So be it."

Both walked off to class feeling appropriately satisfied and excited, anticipating the two days following.

"Would you like to go to a movie tonight?" Mrs. Darling asked her daughter around four-thirty on Friday afternoon. Christine had just begun to prepare her speech to her mother about Erik.

"I've got a date tonight, Mom. Sorry."

Mrs. Darling raised her eyebrows. "Is it with that boy Ray DeChagny? He was a really nice boy, it seemed to me."

"It didn't exactly work out, Mom." She said, wrinkling her nose in irritation. Christine felt no remorse and no feelings for Ray at all.

"So who is picking you up tonight?" Her mother pressed.

"Erik Giry. Meg's brother."

Her mom frowned. "Is he the one who usually keeps to himself? He doesn't have very many friends, does he?"

"What are you suggesting?" Christine asked, narrowing her eyes a bit.

"Nothing, dear. I'm just not sure he's the right one you should be dating. There are issues of safety surrounding him. I heard from his mother that he was suspended for several days. Be careful, all right?"

Christine frowned. "You don't even know him. How can you make those kinds of judgments about Erik without even meeting him?"

"I do talk to his mother, you know. And Christine, I'm just trying to make sure you are safe."

Christine rolled her eyes and stalked off.

Feeling the need for some exercise, Christine changed into some running clothes and jogged around the block.

Christine was, by no means, a serious athlete, but since she didn't play sports or do any other type of physical activity, she felt she ought to get out if she could.

Running cleared her head and jump-started even more nerves about the coming evening. Listening to her favorite songs on her iPod did help her cause, though.

Christine returned panting. She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap, gulping in the precious water as fast as her mouth could take it in.

Feeling sweaty and sticky, Christine rushed up the stairs. It was now five-thirty. She had exactly one hour until Erik would show up at her door. She laid out a black skirt and a nice blouse, plus jewelry.

She showered, dressed and blow-dried her curly hair, attempting to brush her tangled locks.

Christine applied some foundation, blush, mascara and eye shadow. She reflected that she'd never spent this much time or energy on herself just for a boy. But this wasn't just any ordinary boy; it was Erik.

She was excited about the prospects for the evening, and hoped he while she was thinking about him that he was thinking about her.

Erik was indeed thinking about Christine. He wondered what she was wearing, and what he should wear tonight. He wondered what they would talk about, and if they would run out of things to discuss. Actually, that was one of his greatest fears. He did not want to bore her. He also didn't want to be too forward.

He was so nervous, in fact, that he asked his sister for advice. She rolled her eyes but agreed to help, noticing that this was the first time that he had ever cared in the slightest about fashion sense.

She was encouraged that Christine was, indirectly, causing changes in her brother that no one else could have even predicted.

Erik settled on a sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans, and headed out the door.

"Take good care of Christine, Erik," Meg said with a smile. "If the date goes badly, she'll tell me tomorrow." She threatened teasingly.

"Don't worry. Everything should be fine." He closed the door and headed out toward his parents' car, feeling butterflies rise in his stomach. He calmed himself with a few cleansing breaths.

Erik reached the Darling's household and pulled into the driveway. He exited the car and walked to the front door, where he rang the doorbell.

"Hello Mrs. Darling," He said.

"Hello. You must be Erik. I know your sister and your mother very well, but I don't know much about you, I'm afraid."

Erik could tell that Christine got a majority of her looks from her mother–especially the curly dark hair. Her eyes reminded Erik of Christine's, as did her smile.

Mrs. Darling asked several questions before Christine came down the landing and into the front hallway. He struggled to refrain from staring at her as she came to stand right next to him. She was so beautiful! He noticed the subtle touch of makeup she'd added to her usual appearance

"Mom, are you boring him?" She asked with a glint in her eye.

"I'm just being the overprotective parent. You take care of Christine," Mrs. Darling said, opening the door for the two of them.

"My sister said the exact same thing," He mumbled to Christine once they were out of earshot.

"Nice to meet you, Erik. Please have her back by eleven." With that Christine's mother shut the door.

When they could no longer see Mrs. Darling, Erik bent to kiss Christine. She kissed back lightly.

Christine opened the passenger side door and sat down. "Was my mom too much?" She asked a little more nervously than normal. Christine was obviously worried about Erik's perception of her, which touched him somehow.

"She sounds like an interesting person. Don't worry about it, Christine."

Christine felt a thrill in hearing him say her name. Coming from his lips it made the word so much sweeter.

They both were ready for an evening they would not forget for a very long time.


	14. Why Can't The Past Just Die?

They arrived at the small Italian restaurant that Erik had made reservations for and sat down to wait to be seated. Christine peered around the room, noticing the peeling wallpaper and worn leather chairs surrounding them and smiled. She guessed Erik had saved up for a while to bring her here, and for that she was grateful.

"Erik? Party of two?" The tall blonde waitress called. Her smile reminded Christine of a Barbie doll with a painted smile. But on this waitress it didn't look so forced. She actually looked happy.

Christine and Erik rose and followed the waitress along the hallway, noting the other couples and families watching them from their seats. The two of them sat across from each other, Erik on the left, Christine on the right of the small round table.

"I'm Kristy," a waitress behind the blonde one said. She placed two laminated plastic menus on the table between Erik and Christine. "I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink, or maybe an appetizer?"

Erik flipped through his menu to find the beverages, and motioned for Christine to do the same.

"I'll have root beer," He said after a minute of consideration. "Hmm…"Christine said, focused heavily on her menu. "I think I'll take a raspberry ice tea. Is it sweetened?"

"No," Kristy said, shaking her head. "We do have raspberry lemonade, though if you'd like that?"

"Sure." Christine said. When Kristy was out of earshot, she told Erik, "I hate when they have ice tea but they don't bother to sweeten it. What's the point if it's not sweet?" She commented with a smile.

"Maybe they think old people with blood sugar problems are their only customers. I think if you are that unhappy with it you should complain." He smiled.

"You know, I might just do that." He knew she was kidding, but the wheels were turning in her head.

They were quiet for a minute, taking in the atmosphere of the small and tacky but cozy, small town style of the restaurant. The music sounded more characteristic of Greek restaurants, but Christine didn't mind.

Erik started up the conversation, which surprised Christine. He was constantly surprising her. The other night he was so self-conscious and scared, but now he was not shy at all– he was the closest you could get to being outgoing without actually being outgoing.

She was impressed by this most of all. Christine did think he would be far more nervous, though. While they chatted, she wondered whether Meg had helped him pick out his outfit, for Erik was not the one to be considered stylish.

Erik watched Christine's sparkling eyes and glowing nature. She seemed even more alive here than she ever had at school. Her cheeks were flushed, and he noticed that the makeup she was wearing brought out the best of her features.

Best of all, she seemed interested in what he had to say. Their conversation was easy and flowing, and hardly stopped for an awkward moment, even when the drinks came the talk didn't cease.

Each took a sip of their drink and continued talking. After they both ordered, though, things started to slow down. Erik became more reserved. Christine was puzzled by his new silence.

Something was wrong, Christine thought. She waited a minute to see if he was going to elaborate and tell her what was going on.

He didn't.

"Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? I mean, it's okay, but after the way we just talked it's unusual." She frowned. "Don't clam up on me, Erik," She said.

Erik gave a weak smile. He had been planning to tell her about this since he first saw her on her date with Ray, but he didn't have the courage to do it. Now, though, he said to himself, I have to.

"I'm sorry. There's something important I have to tell you." He took a sip of his root beer and hesitated.

She waited for him to continue, but the pause became more pronounced. Resting her hand on Erik's, she looked him in the eye.

"Hey," She said seriously, " Whatever it is you have to say I am ready for. I'm not going anywhere. Really, I can take it."

Erik raised his gaze from his glass to her eyes. "Ray isn't the boy you know, Christine."

This statement threw Christine for a loop. She had expected something about Erik to come out.

She frowned in confusion. "What?"

He shook his head. "I've known Ray since the day I arrived in Versailles and he's not the boy he is now. Do you want to hear the whole story?"

Christine sighed. "Erik, Erik. What am I going to do with you?" She said with a teasing air. Erik felt a shiver of delight at the way she said his name. Christine gave it weight and importance.

"When you get really quiet and don't say anything I know something's wrong, but then you start talking about Ray and ask if I want to hear the whole story. You've brought it up, so why not tell it?"

She placed her hand back on top of his, and Erik could feel his heart skip a beat. "All right," He said, taking a breath.

"Come on Erik," Mrs. Giry called to her son, lagging several feet behind her. He was looking down to the floor, inspecting the intricate workmanship as if he were a professional.

Toni knew better, though. He had been sour all morning about coming with her to register him for school. Through his seemingly tough and stubborn façade she knew he was a little frightened. After all, he was starting school in a totally new place in America.

He had never been around American children, and although he had seen a few American television shows, Erik was fluent in French. The teachers at the orphanage commented proudly on his language proficiency.

Erik loved the rest of his new existence in America, but not school. Oh, no. He was not going to a school where he knew no one (except his sister, but that didn't count. Not really.)

Mrs. Giry had tried to explain to him that he could make a lot of new friends and then he wouldn't be so lonely.

Erik, even at the age of nine was stubborn and was not convinced easily. Actually it was sort of a miracle that Erik had even gotten in the car to come and register with her.

Toni met and shook hands with the secretary of the school.

"That is my son, Erik. I adopted him recently from France and I need to enroll him in school here. As you can see, he isn't very happy with me for dragging him along."

The secretary nodded with a smile, pointing to several papers, she asked that Mrs. Giry fill out.

By the time she was done Erik had made it about half way from the front door of the school to the registration table.

Mrs. Giry patted her son's head and steered him in the opposite direction.

Erik looked up and saw Kristy carrying a tray of food. "I'll continue in a minute, once we have our food."

"Chicken Caesar salad?" Kristy asked. Christine raised a hand to indicate it was hers. "Watch out. The plate is hot." Steam was, indeed, rising off of the plate. Christine sat back from the steaming plate to allow herself air.

Kristy set the minestrone soup Erik ordered next to him, along with a plate of warm breadsticks and a bowl of salad. He nodded his thanks soberly and picked up his spoon.

Once the waitress had left, Christine asked. "So where does Ray come in? I understand you did not want to go to school, but what kid doesn't when they don't know anyone?"

He swallowed the spoonful of soup he had just slurped down. "Well, that first day of school was not very pleasant for me, especially since I didn't know where anything was and I didn't know anyone to ask for directions. Meg did help me a little, but it wasn't as though she could walk me everywhere I wanted to go."

"That reminds me of my first day of school. I didn't realize that was you I asked directions from," Christine commented with a dreamy smile on her face.

"Anyway," He said, clearing his throat, pretending to be annoyed. "Ray was a troublesome little kid, then, and didn't have any idea what boundaries were. Ironically, he was the most honest person I've ever known. Tact, though was not his strong point, and so I immediately took a disliking to him."

"So what did he do?" Christine asked in the middle of a bite of breadstick.

"He was in my class and he found it funny to pick on the new kid. He was the first to notice that I kept my face hidden, and that I hardly answered aloud in class. Being head of the popular clan of the school gave him an advantage I didn't have. Ray had a group of cronies who laughed at even his stupidest jokes and assisted when it came to beating kids up or humiliating them."

Christine shook her head. " I don't see him being a person like that. But I suppose people can change, right?"

"Yeah. I don't know how he became so sugarcoated. He was so… mean. I'd been made fun of back in France, but that was because of my face. I was used to that. I wasn't used to being the one who knew nothing, no one, and had no place to go."

"Oh, come on," Christine said. "It wasn't that bad."

"Yes it was," He continued. "One day we had a spelling test and I did very poorly on it. So, he decided it would be funny to make fun of the new kid's stupidity by showing everyone my score, which he had stolen from my desk after the teacher gave us back the tests. It was a stupid prank, and I should have seen it that way, but something in me snapped.'

"I started yelling at him on the playground, and one day I got so angry I actually pushed him into a large mud puddle. He got out, covered in dark brown slime, stalked over to me and pushed me in. We fought there in the mud for several minutes before a crowd of other kids surrounded us. Our teacher saw us there and sent us to the office."

"I daresay you deserved it!" Christine exclaimed with a laugh.

Erik had not expected Christine to laugh, but it diffused the tension he had begun to feel, and he began to laugh.

"I can just see you two covered in mud walking into the school. The other kids must have erupted in laughter at the sight of you."

He grimaced. "Yeah. But the principal didn't think it was so funny. He immediately gave us detentions and ordered us to call our parents to bring us some new clothes. My mom was more than furious. She grounded me for more than a month. Even after the detentions I stayed away from Ray as much as I could."

"I would hope so. Why did he hate you so much?" She asked. "That's where I am confused. You were just the new kid. Why so much effort in squashing you?"

Erik hesitated. He hadn't considered this question before. Why did he dislike Erik? "Maybe, as ridiculous as this sounds, he was afraid I would take over his popularity and influence his cronies to come to my side. Power, too, could have been an issue. I don't know. Maybe you should ask him."

Christine glared at him. "That is one thing I refuse to do." She crossed her arms over her chest, attempting a mock attitude. Her attempt at lightening the mood worked to an extent, but Erik was still lost in thought.

"Is that the end, then?" Christine asked cautiously. She was afraid of upsetting Erik. She didn't want to send him angry into a rant.

"Not quite. I wish that could have been it, but he wasn't going to give up. I think he was trying to push my buttons, to see how far I would go before giving up. He began to provoke me. He wanted the anger he saw when I pushed him in the mud, and I was not good at silencing emotions or actions, and so I was in trouble several times over the next few years.'

" Sometimes he got away with it, but other times he was called into the principal's office too. They called my mother several times, too, since they were worried about my 'health and safety'." He held up his fingers in the shape of quotation marks. His mocking tone showed his disdain for their actions.

" They thought I was mental, or something. So they suggested sending me to a shrink. There was one problem, though. I wasn't willing to talk. I was so stubborn that I couldn't see that they were trying to help me. Around that time I pushed myself even further into music.'

"In the orphanage I had written music whenever I could. It was like a natural reflex for me. I would play on the piano for hours, and the other kids thought I was weird. When I was forced to go to therapy I would write these really long poems and I started writing musical scores. I was like Mozart, possessed."

Christine smiled, before taking a bite of her salad. "You had better eat pretty soon or else we'll be here all night." She teased.

He took a break to eat a little more soup and bread before continuing. _He's never talked this much before, ever_, Christine thought. _Maybe this is a good thing._

After a brief silence Erik opened his mouth to speak again. "After those times I got into trouble, I began to see less and less of Ray. He was tired of bugging me the exact same way every time. We drifted away for a while. Eventually I found out that his parents had transferred him from Versailles public schools to one of the Christian academies near by. He just returned to Versailles at the beginning of this year a changed person."

He shoveled some salad into his mouth then sat and looked at Christine.

"Wow." She said, breaking the silence. "That's what that look meant."

"What look?" Erik asked.

"Don't you remember? The time I went out with Ray you were at the table while he was gone. When he came back you gave him a glance that said, 'don't bother me.' Now I understand why." Christine mused.

By now she had long past finished her meal and now she was just watching Erik eat the remainder of his.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished in her purse for the cell phone and looked at the caller ID.

It was an unknown number. Cautiously, she opened it and said, "Hello?"

Ray's voice filled the line. Christine froze and felt the urge to laugh hysterically since they had been talking about him all night. "Hi. Are you busy? I can call back later."

She considered this. "Hold on one second," She barked into the phone.

"You will not believe this," Christine said incredulously, "Ray is calling me. I don't know what he wants. Do you think it would be okay for me to go to the lobby and talk to him? I'll come back in a minute. I promise."

Erik looked up alarmed. _No! No!_ His brain screamed. _Don't let her go! Don't let her! _He found himself nodding, though.

She smiled in relief and hurried off in the direction of the door. He sighed. So telling her about him did nothing to her perception of Ray, did it?

Kristy came back to the table and took away the plates. Erik set a wad of cash on the table. "I'll be back with your receipt," She said.

Christine clutched the phone to her ear as she walked away. It was hard to hear in the crowded restaurant, so she had to press one finger into her ear.

"What's up, Ray?" She asked, maybe too much edge in her voice.

"Oh, not much. Just finished my homework and I was getting pretty bored. There is nothing good on TV, now. Of course–"

"So, why'd you call me, Ray, in the middle of a date?" She asked, agitated. "You couldn't have called just to complain about TV."

"Oh, I'm sorry to have intruded. I have a test on Friday and I thought maybe you could help me study. I'm not doing so well in class."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Nice try, but I'm not going to fall for that." She snapped the phone shut and rolled her eyes just as Erik showed up.

"So what did he want?" Erik asked. There was an edge of curiousness mixed with jealously and anger.

"To ask me out, except he tried this lame tutoring excuse. I hung up on him, though. Don't worry." She announced proudly.

He was relieved to hear this, and so his sour mood improved.

"Other than that I had a nice time," Christine remarked as the reached the car.

"I hope I didn't bore you," Erik confessed. "I talked for a while, didn't I?"

"Yeah," she admitted, "but I'm glad you got it off your chest. Now I know that when you are angry I will notice the sudden change in moods." Christine hit him playfully on the arm.

The drive home was relatively quiet. Both were reflecting upon the evening's events. Erik did end up feeling a little guilty for talking most of the time, but Christine was sincere when she told him she didn't mind. Plus, the hit on the arm proved she wasn't too upset with him.

They reached the Darling house. Erik turned off the car and sat for a minute, keeping the door locked, not letting her leave– yet.

"Well here we are," Erik said lamely. He cursed himself momentarily, while watching Christine. She made no motion to leave. She seemed to be holding her breath while waiting for him to do something.

Finally, when she realized he wasn't going to make a move, she broke the spell. "Goodnight, Erik." Christine leaned over the seat and kissed him, closing her eyes as she did so.

Once again Erik was struck by the electricity that sparked when her lips touched his. He lifted a hand to clutch the sides of her face.

He pulled away. "Let me walk you to the door."

Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. "All right."

Christine walked around the other side of the car and took his hand, noticing the warmth and comfortable feeling it awakened in her.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," He said. "Good. So did I. Let's do it again, sometime, and let me talk next time." She teased.

Erik turned his head. She put a finger under his chin, moving his face toward hers again. "I was kidding, Erik," She whispered.

He smiled and kissed her softly. He loved the way her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, and how her body seemed to just fall into place with his.

He moved his hands to the small of her back, beginning to slowly move Christine toward the crevice where Mrs. Darling couldn't see them.

_First date! _His brain screamed. _Don't go any farther than this for now. _

He broke away and begun to walk toward the driver's side of the car. "I should be going. You'll be late for your curfew."

"Curfew, smurfew. Come back here, young man." She ordered.

Erik walked back with a wide smile. They kissed again, this time quicker and with more urgency.

"All right, all right," Christine said, breathing more heavily now. He could see, much to his delight that she was as reluctant as he was to have to go.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She said, walking up to the door where her mother was standing, hands on hips.

Christine was two minutes late.

Erik drove home happily, replaying the last few minutes in his head. He hoped that she was feeling the same way.

They would need that trust if they wanted to make it through the next two months unscathed.


	15. Little Lying Delilah!

**7-23-07**

Sorry for the pause between updates. I've been devoting more time than usual to Harry Potter, and thus I have not had the luxury of ideas popping into my head, until today. I just finished "Deathly Hallows" and I don't want to give anything away, but it was an excellent ending which inspired me to write this very short chapter. I assure you it has nothing to do with Harry Potter or the plot of the final book, in case you are wondering.

I am hoping to write longer chapters as the week goes on. Thank you for your support and I hope to hear from you soon! -MaroonPhantom

Dressed in a long, baggy black coat, a boy exited his mother's car at the front entrance of Versailles High School at a quarter to six the next morning.

Only one of the streetlights was on at this hour, and the lone security light from inside the school was on.

No cars were parked in the parking lot. 5:45 was, it turned out, a nice time to come to school. No traffic plagued the usually busy streets, neither were there any annoying drivers who honked if you took too long at the drop-off station.

The boy–okay, he was a teenager: seventeen, in fact­– walked toward the glass-plated double doors, trying to suppress a wide yawn. He turned, where he saw his mother's car speeding away, then opened the doors and strode into the school.

His mother had asked him several times why he needed to be at school this early in the morning. He didn't have detention, or anything? She asked curiously. He denied this smoothly, supplying the story that he needed a little research for his paper due next week. This excuse seemed to mollify his mother, and after that she did not ask any more questions.

Now he had new problems. How was going to get into the library without a key or without a bobby pin to pick the lock? He wondered whether there was a secret entrance to the library, or if it would be kept open. He had not done this before, so he did not know.

Generally the security measures at Versailles High were not quite up to speed with schools in many other districts. They figured that no one would want to break into Versailles, so therefore no one needed to put up any kind of defense. It just ate up money, right?

This was a saving grace for the boy, for when he reached the library, he found the doors were open. But there was someone already sitting in the librarian's chair. Mrs. Firmin, obviously, wasn't at school, so either she had left the door unlock in her haste to leave the building the following day or the unknown person picked the lock…

There were two lights on, just enough to be able to see the person's face. He squinted.

His face contorted for a second, then he forced a frosty smile onto his face. "Erik. What a nice surprise. What are you doing here?"

The dim light provided a mystique that would not have been there if all the lights had been on. The boy could hear a low growling noise coming from his throat.

"I could ask you the same," Erik said coolly. Erik struggled to control the tone of his voice from exploding in fury.

"Well, I've always known you were a little shy and generally unwanted, but Erik this is ridiculous." He retorted just as frostily.

Erik jumped out of the chair to his full height. His fists were clenched with an unspeakable amount of rage. His face was heating up.

"Ray," He hissed. "What do you want? You already beat me up when we were children, so what more satisfaction do you want? I gave in before, and I'm not going to let it happen again, goddamn it!"

Ray raised an eyebrow. He had never heard Erik shout in his life, let alone obscene language. One thing was certain: Ray had touched a nerve, to be sure.

"You know," Ray intoned, acting as if Erik had not spoken, " I came to the library not to try to destroy you, but to do a little work. You seem to be under the illusion that everything is about you. When you took Christine from me, that was apparent."

"Took her from you?" Erik shouted incredulously. "What makes you think she wanted to be with you in the first place?"

Ray shrugged. "When I kissed her in the opening of the play, she did kiss me back. She went on a date with me, remember? Surely you remember that time when we were in the restaurant."

Ray's cool façade was breaking as the rage inside began to rise up and threaten to take him over. He said bitterly, " Yes. You were sitting at the table, unannounced, unwanted and left alone when I came back."

Erik's mouth was hanging open in shock. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE KISSED YOU BACK?!"

Ray smiled as he recalled the feeling of her lips on his; his arms around her waist. It was the closest to heaven that Ray had ever been. Also he felt the exhilaration and potent sense of power he held like a weapon. Ray was almost sad that his words were truthful. Lying would given him even more satisfaction.

"Did you feel that moment of hesitation before she kissed you?" Ray asked in response, the corners of his mouth rising into a spiteful smirk.

Erik's eyes widened. "It's true then," He said softly, the color draining from his face. He brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes with them, sinking back into his chair.

"The truth hurts. And you thought that you had her to yourself, didn't you? Did it ever occur to you that she is a lying, cheating Delilah? That she tells you things to try to get into your heart, but that she really doesn't care about you at all."

Erik looked up at Ray with a stony expression on his face. Erik's brain turned the idea around in his head several times.

She was patient, she was understanding. She was the only girl Erik had ever known that did not screech when she saw his face. Christine had touched his face… kissed him. She had told him that appearances didn't matter to her.

Was that was all a lie? Christine did not seem like the girl that would purposely tells lies just for the physical part of a relationship.

He shook his head.

But what if Ray was telling the truth? He couldn't bear the thought, and for the second time in the last few months, he began to cry.

"You never answered my question. You never told me why you were in the library this early in the morning," Ray mentioned conversationally after a few minutes of listening to Erik crying into his hands.

Really, he thought. Christine deserves better than this wimp of a man. He can't even pull himself together. It was just a break up. It wasn't the end of the world.

What Ray didn't understand, though, was that this was the first time Erik had ever been in love. Sure, Erik had had crushes before. (What teenage boy, or girl, for that matter, has not?) Unlike Ray, though, Erik did not have gaggles of girls following him around, waiting to be broken up with someone else to have a chance with him.

Erik was mostly alone in the world, and Christine was the only one he had ever known to understand him and his plight. He had told her things he had never told anyone, and now she had gone and betrayed him?

He couldn't bear the thought, and so, after only a minute of deliberation, he gathered up his things and left the library, leaving a triumphant Ray in his wake.

Unfortunately, Erik had once again let Ray win.


	16. Notes

Mr. Phillip Green stormed angrily out of his office, tie swaying from side to side under his almost purple colored face, his fists clenched in rage. Slamming the door caused several employees and students to look up, startled.

Mr. Green's secretary stared at the principal, mouth wide open. Quickly closing her mouth and shooing out the students, she asked, "Is there a problem, Mr. Green," In a very small, very timid voice.

"Yes, Miss Tennenbaum there is!" He roared.

Miss Tennenbaum looked a little taken aback by his outburst, and took a deep breath before asking another question. "Can I help you solve this problem, Phillip?"

He looked at her sharply, as if in the span of thirty seconds he had forgotten she was standing there. Turning around in her direction, he said, "I need Andrea Firmin on the phone immediately. NOW!"

His young secretary snatched up the phone and dialed nervously. "Andrea, Phillip Green needs to speak to you as soon as you are able." With an anxious look at Mr. Green's still purple face, she added, "Preferably now, if possible."

Mrs. Firmin got the call, instructed one of the seniors in the library to keep order, and ran –heels and all– to the office at top speed.

She entered the office and smoothed her hair and skirt. Mrs. Firmin cursed herself for wearing for such uncomfortable shoes today. High heels really are not a very good choice when you have to run down the hallway.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Green?" She asked, although after looking at his face, she should have been able to tell that easily.

"Yes. I have a problem. It has to do with the letter that you sent." He said through gritted teeth.

Mrs. Firmin frowned in confusion. "What letter was that?" She asked. "I don't remember sending you a letter."

Mr. Green glared meaningfully at Mrs. Firmin, his eyes almost slits. "Oh, you think you can be coy, now, after you sent that letter? Of course you sent it! Who else would send me this?" He picked up the piece of paper he'd thrown onto the counter, and thrust it into Mrs. Firmin's outstretched hand.

"But I didn't send it!" She exclaimed with a horrified expression on her face. "This is highly unprofessional, and you know me, Phillip. Whoever _did _send it had quitea nerve."

"You're saying that this is not your handwriting?" He asked, snatching back the letter from her hands.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I do not know anything else about this. Could it be the writing of a student? It is signed S.G. My initials are A.I.F. So it could not have been me."

"What does the letter say?" The secretary asked, pointing a timid finger at the piece of paper in Mr. Green's hands.

"I will read it for you." Mrs. Firmin kindly took back the piece of paper, lowered her reading glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose, and cleared her throat.

"To Whom it May Concern:

There have been numerous rumors about the upcoming production of _When to Leave Good Enough Alone_. Several have caught my attention and I wish to address them here, so I know the truth of the matter.

For one, I have heard that the administration has asked that Miss Christine Darling should not be included in the play, due to her inexperience.

I disagree. She has remarkable talent and a dedication to rival that of any other member of the Versailles High School Drama club. Although shy, Miss Christine can take orders and follow them, she puts her heart and soul into everything she does, and unlike some members, does not whine and use flattery to get her way.

I have been quietly observing as an outsider- I am not an actor– and I see no reason why Ray DeChagny should not be included, also, in this production. From what I have seen, he is a talented actor and he should be taught more thoroughly to act. I believe he has a promising future in this field and should be encouraged to do his very best in every circumstance. The only way, I feel, to promote this is to allow him access to such a valuable performance. It will teach him confidence and skills vital to the understanding of the acting craft.

Miss Carla Visiovatti, I am sorry to report, although experienced and known to the Versailles stage, is too proud and haughty to act such a role. Instead of a leading role, which calls for charm and appeal (which she has very little), allow her to play a smaller role– preferably one that does not entail singing or speaking at any time. I suggest a silent role for Miss Carla.

Also, I will recommend one last thing: the fifth seat in the first row is to be kept available for my use, and my use only. If this request is ignored, expect disaster to occur on opening night of the performance. I say this as a fair warning, and you will not be kindly reminded again.

As the composer and author of the opera, I insist on keeping a small percentage of the profit for my commission.

I will always remain your obedient servant,

Sincerely,

S.G."

Mrs. Firmin looked up from the letter to find Mr. Green deep in thought, and she was delighted to see that the color of his face was not purple anymore, and that he showed no sign of lashing out at her again.

"How could he make such demands?" The principal asked, clearly puzzled. "He is not in any position of power, and therefore has no right to make decisions on behalf of a perfectly capable teacher such as yourself."

She blushed. "Sir, I think that defying these orders could very well result in dire consequences for not only the administration, but for the entire student body. We do not know who the student is who wrote this, and so the only conclusion we should be able to make is that they are, armed and dangerous, so to speak."

His eyes bulged, and Mrs. Firmin expected another blow up in her direction. "What do you suggest doing about it, then? He wants profits for his work, he wants a seat in which to sit in, and he wants to change the casting ideas. Hogwash! That's what I think of this! Simply crazy."

"Well, if you are concerned," Offered Mrs. Firmin , "You could conduct interviews with students to see whom sent you such an offensive letter. That way you could get to the bottom of this mess, and not be troubled any longer."

He considered this for a moment.

"That does seem like a very good idea. I might take you up on that." He said.

Mrs. Firmin walked out of the office with a smile on her face. She was beginning to recognize the genius of the school ghost. Best of all, she thought, for once she knew something the principal didn't know.

Christine walked down the hallway to the cafeteria, expecting to see Erik. All through her morning classes Christine had imagined his happy smile when she came striding through the cafeteria.

Now she saw him sitting in the corner, alone with his lunch and a very large book. She frowned for a moment. She set down her lunch box near to Meg and went to Erik's side.

"Hey," She said breathlessly. She leaned to kiss his cheek, but he moved out of the way.

She was puzzled. What in the world was going on? Why was he acting so childish and alone? And how long was it going to take to convince him that she didn't care about appearances. Christine liked Erik how he was, no matter what his face looked like!

"What's wrong, Erik?" She asked, nudging him.

He didn't answer. He sat in silence for a long time before even looking at her. Christine had a bite of her sandwich in her mouth when he burst:

"You don't know what's bugging me? Why don't you ask your boyfriend, Ray? He must mean something more to you than I do, right? You know what, I don't even want an answer right now." He stalked off angrily, not looking back once.

His words had hit her hard. What in the world was he talking about? Ray wasn't her boyfriend. She was not going out with Ray, she was going out with Erik.

A very hard lump grew in her throat, and tried to resist the urge to cry, but succumbed after a few minutes, letting the salty tears run down her face. She allowed her eyes to become red, bloodshot and puffy. She wallowed for a few minutes in the discomfort and confusion she felt.

When it was time to go back to class, she was humiliated by the people watching her dab her damp face. Now everyone knew Christine Darling had cried during lunch.

Nothing felt right anymore. She didn't even know why he was so angry with her. Christine took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on her next three classes, but Erik's angry face kept popping into her head.

It's not the end of the world, her mind told her. Erik's your first boyfriend. You can do better than him. But the other part of her brain warned her that if she didn't do something soon, her world might take a nasty turn for the worst.

Meanwhile, in his office, Phillip Green was calling down all the students off of his roster to match the initials in the letter. After several hours of speaking to the students, he went to the teacher's lounge to retrieve a fresh cup of coffee.

When he returned he noticed a new note on his desk. Setting his coffee down on the table, he picked up the note.

_Dear Mr. Green,_

_I have heard of your interrogation of the student body on my behalf, and I wish to inform you to cease it immediately. Finding me and punishing me should not be your largest concern as of late._

_The opera I wrote is important to me now more than ever. The cast should be assembled, my "salary" should be paid, and provisions should be made for this play to go on as planned._

_If you wish no further intervention, I suggest making these changes accordingly. If you do so, I will bother you no longer._

_And do not try to find me._

_Always your obedient servant,_

_The School Ghost_

Mr. Green decided upon doing no such thing. He would not take orders from someone he did not know and did not wish to know. Mr. Green was the principal, not the School Ghost!

It was almost time for the preparation of the play to begin, and the School Ghost would not miss it, whatever the cost.


	17. Down to the Home Stretch

Over the next month Erik seethed in the balcony of Versailles High School Auditorium. He was still angry with himself for his earlier behavior in front of Christine, but he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it. He wasn't happy with Christine, either way, but he did feel the need to go apologize, since she looked so confused.

With the binoculars he borrowed from his mother's office every day, Erik scanned the stage, watching the drama club design the sets and practice performing his opera on stage.

He took pride in the progress he witnessed; lines were becoming memorized, the music was becoming more familiar, and the level of confidence was soaring every day they practiced.

But in his solitude, Erik became irritable and angry with his mother and sister. They tried to stay away from him, in order to avoid pointless arguments. Days were silent in the Giry household.

Although he tried not to, the binoculars tended to find Christine, wherever she was. His heart ached as he watched Christine act in her lavish light pink dress. Over and over he was captivated by her beautiful voice.

The rest of the cast and crew was doing very well, including Ray, which made Erik a little peeved with him, although he had to admit that he had suggested that particular casting choice in the first place.

Twenty-four hours now remained until the opening of the opera. Large wooden signs painted in red, purple, black, and orange decorated most street corners in Versailles, Indiana. Erik could not help smiling when he saw them.

Last minute provisions were now being made, including dress rehearsals and arrangements for cast parties.

Excitement and anxiety buzzed through the school, inspiring Erik's latest and greatest idea. He was going to announce himself the author and composer of the opera. The challenge was to find a time to tell Mrs. Firmin when she was not busy.

He considered writing a note, which would no doubt, get to her, but he would not be able to see her face when he told her himself.

During his lunch hour, Erik walked out of the cafeteria with his school-made lunch. Knocking on the locked library door (Mrs. Firmin liked to eat without the company of students around), he began second-guessing this decision. What if she laughed him off, or didn't believe him?

He was just about to walk away again when Mrs. Firmin came walking to the door.

She looked surprised to see him, but nonetheless, unlocked the door and motioned with her hands that he could come in. She had her mouth full of salad and did not want to be rude, so Erik waited patiently for her to finish her bite.

"Erik, what are you doing here with your lunch? Shouldn't you be in the cafeteria?"

" Yeah, " He admitted, "But I had to tell you something. It has to do with the play."

Mrs. Firmin waited, and when he did not continue, she said, "What is it?"

"I wrote the opera, Mrs. Firmin. I sent the letter to you, as well as the letters to Mr. Green about casting. Please don't tell him that, though, I'm sure he will be pretty angry if he finds out that it was me. I've got a lot to deal with right now, anyways." He looked down at his shoes for a moment, considering whether to say more or not.

She raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

He didn't answer this question, he looked down at his shoes for a moment. "It's all right, Erik, you can talk to me about whatever is bothering you. I have noticed you sitting in the balcony while we are rehearsing, you know. I thought it was nice to see that you were there, even if you wouldn't acknowledge it."

"So you knew it was me?" He asked a little incredulously.

"I haven't seen Christine in here for a while? Is she all right?" Mrs. Firmin asked smoothly, as if he had not said anything.

He himself had not seen her in such a long time that the mention of her name brought back bad feelings in his gut.

"I don't know," He answered quietly.

"Are you two having a fight?" Mrs. Firmin asked probingly.

"Yeah, I suppose we are." Erik supplied no more information.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No, not really. I'm just a little disappointed in Christine right now. I found out some things that I didn't know before, and I was a little shocked to hear them."

"You haven't been talking to Ray DeChagny, have you?" Mrs. Firmin asked.

"Why?"

"I've seen him in the library more often with Carla Visiovatti. Numerous times I've had to come and remind them of no public displays of affection in the library. It seems like they are up to something. Now, it is not necessarily my place to give my personal opinion of matters of like or dislike. By the way they talk and scheme in the darkest corner of the library I have noticed they are planning something. Furthermore, whatever he or Carla has said, I believe, was intended to hurt you somehow."

Erik considered this. Well, Ray had either tried to manipulate him, or he was telling the truth. With Ray it was impossible to ever tell this, due to his cool and careful façade.

"Thank you, Mrs. Firmin," He said, turning his back to her and striding out the library doors. By now all of the lunch period traffic was beginning and he headed in the opposite direction of the stampede toward his next class. There, he proceeded to mull over Mrs. Firmin's words.

The conversation between Mrs. Firmin and Erik Giry had been overheard, to the knowledge of neither participant.

Carla grimaced in the dim light. So far they had not been caught, which was a saving grace, but she knew that Mrs. Firmin might go back to their secret hide-out to check on them at any time.

"We know it is Erik, now," whispered Ray, "So what do we do?"

He looked questioningly at Carla's face. She stayed silent for a moment, considering the options. Their time to create havoc was running out. Since the letters insisted that Christine play the lead role in the play, Carla had no choice.

Unless… Carla's mind whirred, and as she thought, a wide, smirky smile crossed her face.

"I know exactly what to do," She whispered.

"What?" Ray asked, but Carla was pulling him from the ground, rushing him out the door after Mrs. Firmin had disappeared into the copying room.

"I'll tell you on the way," She said, leading him into the hallway toward the drama wing. Both of them had their backpacks with them in which to rush to class.

"But what if we're late to class?" He asked, a little panic in his voice.

Carla looked in his direction and rolled her eyes. "We have at least five minutes to make this plan work wonders.

Christine stuffed her backpack with filled with papers and zipped frantically. "Come on," She whispered under her breath when the zipper snagged the corner of her recent biology assignments.

After a minute or so of struggling, she dashed out of the classroom– the bell had rung several minutes before– and was half way out the door when she remembered a chore she had not taken care of.

Running against the crowd, Christine pushed and pulled her way toward the drama wing. It was the Friday before the next day's performance and all the cast members needed to take home their costumes, since the school was locking up the auditorium for the night.

Christine rushed in, shoved the box with her name on it under her shoulder without checking its' contents, and ran out the door again.

On her way she caught half a second's glance at Erik. She could feel her heart turning over in her chest, adding adrenaline to her already frenzied heart.

She didn't have time to say anything to him and took off running for the bus that was leaving, not looking back.


	18. A Holey Inappropriate Mistake

I must acknowledge one kind review I received. I could not find another way to communicate with her, so I will give her thanks here. It made my day to see my work reviewed so highly!

**I started writing this story after finishing a very successful but unrealistic one. It is easier for me to relate to a high school story; I based teachers and students upon real people. It didn't take long before I began to really understand Christine and Erik. Authors say that you need to **_**know **_**your characters before you bring them to life, and after a lot of work I have finally accomplished that! **

**I also tend to notice and criticize spelling and grammar mistakes in stories, so I try very hard to be correct. I don't like being a hypocrite.**

Carla and Leech, eh? That made me smile. You'll see what they do in this chapter to further get their way… but not for long. Maniacal laughter

**The original chapter was meant to explain why **_**The Phantom of the Opera **_**was written. Maybe I also wanted to explain that the Phantom was not a myth… that his story could be carried to other generations.**

**In conclusion, I thank you so very much for your review, and as I said above, it made my day! I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter, and again, I recognize and appreciate everyone who has taken their time to read my story.**

**Thank you and enjoy!**

– **MaroonPhantom5 (a.k.a. Dana)**

_7:00 AM, Saturday March 15, Christine's bedroom_

Christine slept fitfully that night. For some reason, butterflies swarmed in her stomach, making it difficult to close her eyes and relax. A dozen worries crossed her mind. She had only been in a school play once before, and only once as a lead role.

What if she missed a note in one of the songs, or she forgot a line? What if the dress she was wearing caught onto the edge of the stage and the fabric ripped, sending her into one of the audience member's laps? There would be plenty of teasing and laughing if that happened.

After hours of trying to calm down, Christine finally settled into sleep. Her dreams were short and quite odd– she woke up wondering if there really was a pig sitting in her living room.

One caught her attention, though, not letting it escape her brain.

The dream began as Christine strolled quietly through a graveyard. There, she saw her father's grave; the engraved picture became alive and tried to give Christine instructions. They were mumbled and sounded delirious, as though her father had a contagious fever.

"It's all right, Daddy," she found herself yelling at the headstone. He didn't seem to hear her though, and he kept mumbling things. She became more frantic now. She looked back, in search of help, and saw one lone figure coming toward her.

He was garbed in a long, dark, flowing cape. She could not see his face, but recognized the voice immediately when he spoke.

"Do not worry about your father, Christine. He is in his rightful place."

"Erik?" She cried, a smile spreading across her face in spite of the strange things happening around her.

Christine rose to her feet and walked toward him. "Why are you angry with me? Why don't you want to be with me anymore? Things were going so well–" She pleaded with him, but he lifted a hand to stop her.

He stepped closer, close enough to reach out his hand and touch her lips with his fingers.

"All will be well, soon, Christine."

"Please, don't go. I've missed you." Then she thrust herself at him. His arms enclosed her small frame, and she could feel his warmth. When she began to cry, he tried to soothe her by whispering to her.

"I have to go. I will be back, though. Don't give up on me, Christine."

He floated effortlessly away, and Christine's eyes fluttered open. Her cheeks were wet and the morning light had just begun to sneak through the cracks in her window shades.

Wiping her tears away she wondered whether the figure in her dream was telling the truth.

_2:00 PM Saturday March 15, Versailles High School Auditorium _

Several hours later Carla and Ray were surveying the possibilities of the auditorium. "We have to find a way to get my name in the program instead of Christine's." She mused thoughtfully.

"All the programs have been printed up already, and they aren't just going to cross out Christine's name and put yours. We don't know if the plan will even work. What if she goes on anyway?" Ray asked.

Carla glared at him. "Do you think I am going to give up on this plan? I've worked on it for months. This is my debut, do you understand? I am not going to let that prissy girl Christine take my place just because she's more wholesome than I am. You have very little faith, Ray, darling, and if you are too scared to see it through, I suggest leave immediately."

"No… that's not what I meant, Carla. I was just going through the…. hypothetical possibilities. I'm the voice of realism in making sure your plan will work to the best of its potential." Ray said quickly.

"So, let me get this straight," Carla said, raising her voice, " You don't actually think this is going to work, so you are telling me to consider something else to do to get my way. Well, you little coward, I have news for you: I am going to make this work, and YOU are going to help me. Do you understand? I will take no more groveling or worrying!"

He nodded meekly, as if he didn't trust his voice.

"Good. Now let us prepare for the day." She stalked off in the direction of the stage, leaving Ray running to catch up with her.

_Someone was grouchy_, Ray thought irritably_. In a few hours this whole evil plan thing will be over and then I can go back to my life as it was before. _

_4:15 PM Saturday March 15, Giry kitchen _

At home Erik talked even less than he had the previous several weeks, which bothered Mrs. Giry.

That afternoon Mrs. Giry finally cornered Erik in the kitchen. "Erik, what is the problem? You have been moping around here for a long time. I wanted to keep my distance to allow you some space, but now I've let this go on for long enough. Tell me what is wrong."

Toni had the look on her face which said in plain English: you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Erik thought Toni should have been a Supreme Court justice instead of a high school teacher by the way she was interrogating him.

"I wrote an opera." He said simply.

She looked startled. This, obviously, was not the answer she was expecting. "You wrote an opera." She repeated.

"Yes, Mom, I wrote an opera. The school decided to perform it for the spring, and they've been practicing and trying to get it right for tonight."

"I don't understand. Why does that make you so angry and sad? They are taking your piece of work and putting it in the public eye. That is wonderful. Why didn't you tell me before?"

He hadn't considered this thought, actually, but didn't say so aloud. He had already done enough damage and this news would not help the situation.

"Do you know Christine Darling?" Her name almost burned a hole in him, but he forced himself to stay calm, especially in front of his mother.

"Of course I do, she's one of Meg's friends. She really is a sweet girl–"

"I went out on a date with her, Mom, if you must know. That was the night you were out of town for that teacher's conference. I was too embarrassed to tell you that I had a date. I really wasn't sure what in the world I was doing."

"Did you break up? You are speaking in the past tense." She asked.

"I heard things," He said looking down at his feet.

"Like what? She wasn't being unfaithful, was she?"

"I am not sure. Ray DeChagny told me something like that, but I don't actually know what happened, if anything."

"What are you going to do about it, then, Erik?" She asked in that annoying motherly way she had when she had a few ideas of her own.

"I don't know. I might talk to her about it at the play tonight. I'm not really sure. I'm basically going to wing it."

"What are you going to say to her?"

"I have no idea. Could you help me?" There was a pleading look on Erik's face that she had never seen before. Erik tried never to ask for help if he could avoid it.

This was the longest conversation he'd had with his mother in several weeks. In years past he had always thought that conversations with your mother were meant for girls who wanted advice on their hair or their nails. Talking with his mother now almost felt good. He had finally gotten that weight lifted off his shoulders, and that made a lot of other things easier.

As they talked, an idea came to him and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.

All the cast members were required to arrive at the high school at five o'clock for one final dress rehearsal before the play began at 7:30.

Christine's nerves flared several times before she could even think of calming them down.

Carla was there in the dressing room when she arrived.

"Hello Christine," She said in a sugary voice.

Christine glared at her. "What do you want, Carla. And what are you doing by my clothes? I have known this whole time that you wanted my part. So if you are trying to mess this up, you might as well just take the part. It's not worth all the hype, anyway."

It took a lot of courage to say this. Christine was preparing a plan of her own.

Carla's mouth was open in shock. "Y-you're going to give it to me? No charge? No catch?"

Christine smiled. "Well, okay, there's one catch. You have to answer me one question. Other than that, I would say you obviously are a better actress than I am, and you deserve this part more than I do. Take it." She held out her hand, as if waiting for a flock of birds to come and eat birdseed out of her hand.

Carla still looked confused.

"Now, what exactly were you doing?"

"And tell the truth," Christine added with a wide smile.

"Why should I tell you? You gave me the part!" She said, putting her hands on her hips, smiling her triumphant smile.

"Because," Christine said with a smile, "I haven't talked to Mrs. Firmin about it, and she has to officially make the change. Plus those programs in the hallway all have _my _name on them and there's no time to fix them."

Carla saw her opening and could not help but to laugh. "We have taken care of that."

Christine narrowed her eyes. "Who is 'we'?"

Carla enjoyed her moment of victory. "Ray DeChagny. All you have to do is dangle your sex appeal in front of him and he'll come running. It was really quite easy. You see, we were going to switch my costume for yours just in time so that you would not have the right costume for the part. That way I could be the lead, and you would be the poor, silent TOAD I've wanted for you ever since I found out you wanted to act."

"You are evil," Christine said through gritted teeth.

"That is one way to put it. The other way to put it is that I get what I want. Now since you so graciously gave me the part, hand over the costume."

"I thought you switched costumes, though. So I have the silent part and you have mine."

Christine smiled. There was one flaw that Carla would find: both costumes were pink– almost the same color pink except that one had sparkles and sequins, while the other did not. If they were both folded up, though, you would not be able to see the embellishments and you might just think that one was the other.

Christine was able to use this to her advantage: she would convince Carla that the undecorated costume was the lead role, while she stashed the rightful gown in her own bag and run off with it before she could notice the difference.

Christine then took off in the direction of the other costume, lying on the bench beside the trunks of clothing. Carla saw the move and scurried after her. Unfolding it for a second and finding the sparkles, she quickly stashed it in her bag. Christine snatched the other costume up and turned for the door, when she saw Carla.

Carla grabbed the end of the pink gown that was hanging off her shoulder, pulling it toward her.

Christine put on a horrified face, pretending to be angry with Carla for trying to steal it.

"Well, here we go," Carla said greedily, pulling the cloth.

"You are not going to win, mark my words, Carla." Christine snarled.

"Ooh, I'm scared now. I've never seen your bad side." Carla mocked.

Christine pulled her fabric, and Carla tugged on her side. This went on for several minutes until she heard a faint crack.

Christine smiled again. She now noticed a tiny hole beginning to enlarge at every pull between them. Carla, though, was too busy trying to get it into her possession that she didn't notice the growing hole.

Finally it was big enough to cause notice. Christine let go and Carla went tumbling backward with the fabric.

"Oh, look, the costume is in need of mending. Too bad you didn't notice that before you came."

Carla stared at the ripped dress and let out a shriek. Christine strode out of the room with a spring in her step. "Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go get dressed."

Christine waited a few seconds for the moment when Carla noticed that she had chosen the wrong costume to break– the one that would make her look like a ridiculous, silent toad.

Especially since the large whole was located across the bust of the dress.

"Affection is yours if you ask / first you must take off your mask."

-KT Tunstall, Another Place to Fall


	19. All I Ask of You

A rotund man in a tuxedo walked toward the microphone situated in the center of the stage. The spotlight, too, was centered on the microphone. "Can I have your attention please?" Mr. Phillip Green called over the anxious chatter of the audience. It took several seconds before they calmed down and became silent.

"Firstly, I would like to welcome you to Versailles High School auditorium. I have a few notes to share with you before our production begins."

He cleared his throat and picked the note cards out of his pocket and studied them before continuing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to witness the production of a student-written opera. _When to Leave Good Enough Alone_ was written by our own Erik Giry, a senior here at Versailles. Right now he's working behind the curtain, but let's give him a big round of applause."

The audience clapped loudly. Even a few hoots could be heard.

Mr. Green was about to say more, but at that moment the crimson curtain rose to reveal the beautifully painted sets. The first few notes floated from the lower orchestra pit, and the annoyed principal walked as quickly as he could off the stage.

The audience giggled momentarily at this. The overhead lights dimmed dramatically, hushing them.

Christine Darling walked out on stage, sparkling in her beautiful pink gown. She looked calm and collected from the audience, but inside she was nervous again.

The other cast members walked on and everything was going perfectly–no one had thrown up, or forgotten their lines, or even missed a note.

Carla had now walked miserably on stage in her ripped dress­– Mrs. Firmin had found a respectable undershirt to remedy the situation.

Christine stifled a giggle every time she noticed Carla in her ridiculous dress. The audience laughed the first time they saw the costume. Other than that the audience was almost eerily quiet during every song.

Mrs. Firmin smiled from the lower orchestra pit where she was listening and watching the cast members' stage presence from below. Generally proud of the students, Andrea Firmin had last-minute director's instructions , which biased her viewing of the play. She tried to keep quiet, though.

On the main floor, Mrs. Giry smiled from her seat next to Meg. "Can you believe that Erik wrote this?" She whispered to her daughter.

Meg considered this. "Yes, actually, I can. Erik is an amazing writer, yes, but you can also see parts of his personal life coming out as the play progresses."

"Oh really? He never actually told me what was wrong, or what he had heard. All I know is that it must have been bad if he stayed holed up in his room for that long." Toni commented.

"Boys," Meg said, shaking her head. "Can't live with them, but we can't live without them. Isn't that true, Mom?"

"Why are you asking me that? Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Toni asked expectantly.

She didn't think Meg would say something like that because she felt like it. There had to a reason for it.

"Don Piangi asked me out the other day," She whispered.

Toni turned to face her daughter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Meg smiled. "You were busy, and it really wasn't that big of a deal. Except for the fact that Don was Carla Visiovatti's boyfriend. She will come after me in a furious rage when she finds out that I said yes."

Toni frowned. "You shouldn't date someone just to make someone else jealous."

"Usually that would be true, Maman, but you don't know Carla. I think she deserves a little unsettling news to mess up her life. She's messed up everyone else's life lately, Erik's, especially."

"We'll talk about this later," Toni said with a stern tone.

Meg shook her head when her mother had turned back to the play and smiled. _Some things would never change, _she thought.

Meanwhile on stage, Christine was gearing up for the final song in the performance– the one that would make or break her reputation. Either Carla would be laughing her way out of the theater, or she would be crying because Christine had acted and sang so well.

Christine told herself several times over that she was going to be fine. There was nothing to worry about, she told herself. However, she was a tiny bit paranoid. What if Carla tried to do something stupid and greedy like she had done before? What would happen then?

She didn't know. Taking several deep breaths, she walked off stage for the intermission. Mrs. Firmin was waiting there with a very large smile on her face. Everyone else was crowded around the drama teacher intentively.

"Good job everyone. Your volume is excellent. Expression is also really good out there. Just one suggestion…"

Christine fidgeted and began to tune out. When Mrs. Firmin's little speech came to a close, Christine walked nervously over to her.

"You look as white as a ghost, Christine. Are you all right?" Mrs. Firmin asked, concerned.

"I'm just really nervous. I know Carla has wanted my part since the day I auditioned and if I fail she's going to mock me to no end. I really want to do well, it's just a lot of pressure." She admitted.

"That is very, very true. But Christine, remember, Carla's opinion is not the one that counts. Your own matters more than whatever anyone else thinks, including me. Believe that you can do this, Christine, because I know that you can. Now you go out there and make me proud, all right? Don't worry, be happy."

She called the last part of the sentence after Christine had walked away, but she still heard the cheeriness of Mrs. Firmin's voice from several feet away.

Christine took heart in this last statement and her nervousness started to fade a little.

Finally the music began to play, telling the cast members to get in their places. Christine rushed upstage to be in her position, frozen, until the narrator of the story gave her permission to move.

The curtain rose and the spotlight was on again. Christine could feel herself tremble, but fought to make her frozen pose look real.

When she could move again, she took another deep breath and said a few of her many lines.

She heard the opening notes of the song– the swell of the cellos and the higher melodic sound of the violins– pulling the words out of her throat and into the air. After many months of nervousness, she finally felt her stomach relax.

The male lead would come in about…now.

She could see the spotlight focus in on him as he came up the aisle, dressed in a black suit and crimson cape. If she had not looked at the boy or heard his voice, she may not have been so happy. She fought the urge to acknowledge him…

"…**You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent…." **Erik sang, his melodious voice echoing throughout the auditorium. She could hear several murmuring voices throughout the audience wondering what had happened to the other lead. Christine, though, was almost in a trance.

He was here! He was here! Her brain screamed triumphantly. Her heartbeat grew faster, the adrenaline pumping through her system. It took all she had not to go running toward him right this very moment in front of the crowd, fellow students and teachers.

** "…Silent…" **He whispered loud enough for her to hear. He crept on stage slowly, giving Christine a chance to take in his appearance. Erik was wearing a half of a mask. It was stark white with one hole for the eye, and it curved elegantly around the nose and mouth, bathing most of his face in shadow.

"**In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me, now you are here with me, no second thoughts… you've decided…" **

He circled around her, examining Christine as much as she was doing to him. He winked seductively at her with his face turned, so only she could see it. His heart was doing victory laps in his chest. He thought for a second he was going to explode, but forced composure.

"**Past the point of no return, no backward glances, our games of make-believe are at an end… What raging FIRE," **He exaggerated fire loudly and fiercely in the audience's direction,** "shall flood the soul, what rich desire unlocks its door ? "**

Erik turned toward Christine again and stared for a second, causing a blush to suffuse her fair cheeks.** "What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return: the final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets shall we learn, beyond the point of no return."**

"**You have brought me," **Christine replied in song,** "…To that moment when words when speech disappears into silence… silence. I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why… in my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent." **Christine dared a look at Erik, watching the corners of his mouth turn into a smile.

"…**When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?"**

Then at last they sang together, both complimenting the other's voice. "**We've past the point of no return."**

The orchestra faded out. And just as the script said, the male lead began to sing. Except his words were not the ones written on paper that they had rehearsed for months on end. He crossed the space between them and put his hands on her arms, looking into his face.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too."

Then at the top of his lungs, Erik sang, "CHRISTINE, THAT'S ALL I ASK OF YOU!"

She smiled and hesitated. With trembling fingers she touched the mask and peeled it off of his face, tossing it to the floor. But before he could say anything at all, she leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.

Her heart was racing like a runaway train. There were over two hundred people clapping and hooting and hollering by the time they pulled away, but the best part was that neither of them seemed to care.

They were so absorbed in the moment– in the words and the kiss– that they didn't notice the other cast members had come out on stage and bowed.

Christine and Erik held hands and bowed deeply with childish smiles plastered on their faces.

After collecting their things and changing costumes, they ran out the side door where a blast of cool air met them. It was refreshing.

They kissed again, this time without interruption or inhibitions. Christine's arms were wrapped around his neck, and Erik's arms around her waist. After all they had been through– together and apart, angry and contented–the closeness was welcomed by both of them.

"I love you," Erik whispered after pulling away for a second. She smiled triumphantly while running her fingers up and down the side of his face. "I love you, too, Erik."

They kissed for several more minutes, as if to make up for the time they had lost before. Panting, Christine pulled away and struggled to catch her breath.

"Sorry. I should have let you breathe," He said, his voice a little ragged.

"It's all right. I needed that. Now that we have that out of our systems, I feel much better," She said. After a short pause, she asked, "What took you so long? I knew you were angry with me, but I never knew why. Can you explain it, now?"

The smile on his face disappeared almost instantaneously.

"I saw Ray in the library one day, and I realize now that I was worked right into his plans. He told me that you two had kissed. I was jealous and angry about it. I felt like we had just gotten to know each other and that was a blow I had not expected."

"Erik, Ray is an idiot. Now, you need to promise me something," She said with a pleading voice and expression to match, "I need you to promise not to yell at me until I finish talking."

He turned wary. "All right. I can't imagine that you would deserve it, though."

"Before we came together Ray asked me out. You knew that. We went on a date and I thought naively that I was in love with him. He came to the first school play and surprised me by kissing me in the dressing room. I kissed him back." She paused and studied his expressionless face.

"I had no idea what I was doing. I eventually figured out that I didn't love him, nor did I like him. But I was so confused by everything I had to test it out. I told myself that if I felt something I might hang on to what we had, but if not then I would give up on it. The result was the latter. Erik, you have to understand that I didn't know him and I ended up doing the right thing by giving up on him. I–"

She didn't get to finish her sentence because he had taken possession of her lips again. This kiss was more forceful, more passionate than the others. Erik wanted to make it clear that she understood.

"I should have asked you before assuming anything," Erik finally said.

"Keep that in mind for the future before you go months without talking to me, all right?" She scolded with a smile.

"I forgive you," She said, "I probably would have thought the same thing if the situation were reversed."

"Good. I'm glad we have that all figured out." He said, leaning into her again.

"Wait a second," She said, putting a finger to his lips. "I dreamt about you last night." She proceeded to tell him about her strange dream. When she finished, Erik was smiling.

"Well, I think that if you are dreaming about me, then this is meant to work, don't you think?

"Absolutely." She replied, and they kissed again.


	20. Epilogue: Revenge and Apology

Ray strode toward the Visiovatti house angrily. His eyes were focused only on the sidewalk and the door in front of him.

He reached the end of the very long brick pathway, which curved several times around the Visiovatti's large garden, and ended up on the cement porch.

Ray pushed the doorbell on the right side of the honey-colored door and began tapping his foot impatiently. Almost two minutes later he finally heard someone padding toward the door.

The person on the other side of the door, he could hear, was unlatching all the locks. When she finally turned the doorknob, Carla wore a surprised expression, and her mouth turned up into a seductive smile.

Ray told himself that he was not going to give in to her persuasive style, but there was something about this smile and the obvious pleasure and surprise on her face that made him reconsider,

"Ray, darling," She gushed in a high, girlish voice. "I'm so glad you're here. Mama and I were just talking about you. She was hoping to meet you, and now she can. Hold on one second." Carla said excitedly, shutting the door again.

Ray sighed and waited. Leave it to Carla to make the biggest production out of something as small as a person coming to the door. It surprised Ray that Carla had just shut the door in his face.

He sighed and tapped his feet loudly on the cement. He doubted they could hear him, but, he thought, it was worth a try anyway.

Through the frosted glass of the window, he could see the colors of the people standing right behind the door. Carla and her mother were obviously having a debate. He looked down at his watch.

He had to be at baseball practice in twenty minutes and he was not even dressed for it. His cleats were in the car, but those would have to wait until he arrived at the field.

Ray rapped on the door again. This stopped all the arguing, and finally they opened the door again.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to be somewhere in about twenty minutes and I was wondering if I could have a word with Carla," He said quickly.

They looked startled that he had spoken, but Carla hastily exited the house and stood right next to Ray on the porch.

Ray could still see Mrs. Visiovatti standing there in the foyer, presumably listening to everything they were saying. Ray found himself wondering whether she was a strict disciplinarian.

There had to be some evidence that she was. After all, she was standing there watching them. If he touched her in the slightest, maybe Mrs. Visiovatti would lash out and send him away.

They started with a greeting, biding their time until she walked away. When she did, Carla thrust herself into Ray's arms, beginning with a passionate kiss.

He rolled his eyes in spite of himself. _Here we go again. She's trying to get me to forget my resolve. Well, for once I'm not going to let her do that. She's already done enough to mess up my life._

"I've missed you so much, darling. It has been so lonely without you around to help me with my plans. I like having a partner in crime. Things are much easier when you can blame someone else for something you did." She laughed.

He frowned. The latter part of her little speech confirmed his suspicions. She had used him. She had used him to get something that she wanted, all the while leaving him out of the equation by trying to bribe him with kisses and false affection.

How dare she?

He broke away from her iron grip, pushing her out of his arms.

"So that's how it is, then? If you were to get caught it would be all my fault?" He demanded. His anger was coming so easily… much more easily than he had anticipated. He thought that she would try much harder to discourage him. Somehow she knew this was going to come her way in due time.

"O-of course not, Ray." First she looked scared, but a plan popped into her head– he knew the look. She smiled triumphantly.

"You know I didn't mean that, exactly–"

"What did you mean, then? Christine ripped your costume so you couldn't be the lead actress while she was the pageboy. You tried to get me to manipulate Erik so he would leave Christine. You thought she would be so depressed about the disappearance of her lover that she would simply give up the part to you. None of your plans were successful, Carla. Not _one. _"

Carla was looking around nervously, obviously wracking her brain for a plan– a way out. She could not find one. Hysteria began to fill her brain.

"Don't bother denying it. I'm not as stupid as you take me for," He said forcefully.

He paused for a moment, watching Carla's bewildered face get even more panicked as the minutes passed.

"Oh, by the way, I want to know something." He mused.

"Y-yeah? Ask me anything." She said, trying to regain her composure.

He smiled meanly. It was not a kind, forgiving smile– it was a smile of revenge. He felt powerful, and for once, he was the one with the plan meant to work. He'd waited for this ever since he understood what exactly her plans entailed.

"What was in it for me?" He asked.

"Me. I knew you were after Christine and I wanted to discourage you from that relationship. I was jealous. You were perfect." Carla said, looking down.

"Hmm…" He mocked, "So you thought by confusing me and trying to seduce me you would get your way? Well, I have news for you: it worked, Carla. I thought that it was going to be a simple one-time thing. Oh, I was wrong. Shit! How could I have been so stupid?"

He'd said one of those words much louder than he probably should have, causing her mother to come back to the front door to supervise.

"Look, I've got to go. Just don't try to count on me anymore, because I'm not going to blindly do your bidding anymore. Bye Carla."

He rushed toward his car. Ray then checked his watch, noticing that he was leaving at least ten minutes later than he should have left, which meant he wasn't going to get to practice on time. Well, there was at least one good part of this experience: he wouldn't have to deal with Carla Visiovatti anymore.

Later that afternoon halfway across town, no acts of revenge were taking place. Instead, Erik was trying to make up for things that he probably should not have done in the past.

"It still isn't sounding right," Erik complained, teeth gritted, in front of the computer. Christine was patiently sitting on the edge of his bed. Erik had returned Christine home the night before, promising to call her the next morning to make some plans.

He had not told her exactly what he was planning on doing, but Christine didn't much care. She simply wanted to be around Erik as much as she could, however small the amount of time they had together.

"Read it to me," Christine suggested. They had been sitting here for an hour. Christine tried to be patient when Erik got angry, as he often did when his words didn't seem quite right in context.

"All right," Erik agreed reluctantly. "To Whom It May Concern." He stopped and lifted his eyes to Christine's face. Even when she was confused, somehow her features were perfectly arranged.

She raised her eyebrows. "And…" Christine prompted, waving her hands in the air, signaling for him to continue. When he didn't, she blushed. "You're making me self-conscious!"

He got up out of the chair and kissed her forehead, then her lips.

When he went back to the chair she shook her head. "You are spoiling me, Erik. Now I'm going to expect this all the time."

"So be it." He said with a smirky grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Continue please."

He sighed gustily. "If you insist." Erik cleared his throat and began again.

"To Whom It May Concern,

Congratulations to you on a wonderful performance of my opera. I appreciated your adherence to my instructions, for it made all operations go smoothly and without incident.

However, I also wish to apologize for my secrecy and also for my demands in these matters, as well. I had hoped not to require so much of my superiors, by I did not know whether my efforts would pay off by being passive."

He looked up again. Christine considered this. "Hmm… It seems like you need more. Maybe you need to tattle tale a bit too." She suggested.

He frowned and studied the computer. "What do you mean by tattle tale? Whom am I telling on?"

"Carla and Ray. They tried to destroy us and the play, remember?"

"That's interesting. I don't want to sound like a suck up in search of a reward, here, Christine."

"Well, you don't have to use it, then," She said, no hint of anger or disappointment in her voice. "It's your letter. You can decide what you want in it."

He nodded.

For a half an hour Erik was very quiet. The only sounds in the room were of the whirring of the computer, their breathing, and his fingers clacking on the keyboard.

Christine lowered herself down on his bed so her back was touching the sheets. From there she relaxed, staring at the ceiling. _So this is what he sees every night when he goes go sleep_, she mused. There were a few glow-in-the-dark stars and moons stuck to the ceiling. At night, she guessed, the lit up the ceiling with their greenish glow.

She smiled. In this simple act of observation she had seen a little ways into Erik's every day life.

"I like the stars on the ceiling," She commented. He looked at her lying on the bed, and he couldn't help but lift his eyes to the stars.

"Yep. I was eight years old when I had those plastered to the ceiling. I was obsessed with astronomy, for some reason." He admitted.

"It is interesting how all the stars come together to make constellations, or how they just hang there in the sky." She mused quietly.

"Yeah." He agreed.

Erik clicked a button on the computer and the printer buzzed and a white piece of paper slid into the tray. The words on the page began to appear very slowly.

He saved his work, got up and came to join her on the bed. She scooted over in order for him to have room enough to lay there with her.

Erik clutched her hand and held it up, their elbows touching on the bed. For a minute or more the both of them were silent. They stared at the ceiling, thinking about the ways their lives had changed in the last several months.

"What are you thinking about?" Erik whispered, finally breaking the silence.

Christine smiled. "I started here in the fall knowing only your sister and in the last few months I've made enemies as well as friends. And of course, I was thinking about you."

Erik considered this. "Whereas I was a lonely, miserable, pathetic boy looking for sympathy."

She frowned. "That's not true. Remember the Phantom? Christine Daae told him: 'His haunted face holds no horror anymore. It's in your soul that the true distortion lies.' Don't you think that you can see yourself one way and others can see it completely different?"

She rolled over so that her back was to the window, and propped herself on her elbow.

He looked at her. "You seem awfully sure of that."

"Yes. That would because I believe that your attitude toward yourself is poor. I can tell you anything I want that I believe, but it's your choice to think that. Erik, I love you, but really, you're going to have to have some pride."

She touched his face. He closed his eyes. "I'll think about it."

"Good," She said.

Opening his eyes, he said, "Hey, do you want to go do something out of the house? I'm getting a little hungry."

Christine smiled. "Yeah. I think we owe it to each other. It'll be our first date since the fight. That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

He lifted her right wrist and kissed it. "So be it"

She smiled and sat up. "Your wish is my command, Monsieur Opera Ghost."


	21. Author's Note

**Author's Note, 8/15/07**

Dear Readers/Reviewers/ Wonderful Fanfiction People,

I began this story on December 30, 2006 and it's taken me this long to finish it! WOW! Christine and Erik have grown a lot since I first thought of the concept.

Well, before I go any further, I hope you all enjoyed The 17-Year-Old Opera Ghost. I always love when authors give their audiences a little bit of their thought process when they write a book, so that is what I will do here.

Christine's personality is modeled upon yours truly, although I do not have curls. The other quirks of her personality are based upon my own, but as always, characters are… well… themselves. Some aspects of the school are based upon mine, although my school is MUCH, MUCH bigger than my interpretation of Versailles High. By the way, I have never been to Versailles, and therefore do not hold me responsible for accuracy of the setting. Thank you!

The rest was dedication to actually finish what I started. Somehow I wrote 159 pages, which is my longest Fanfiction ever and the closest I've gotten to writing a novel.

Now that that is taken care of I believe some thanks are in order:

Thanks to all reviewers, but especially Miss Marian Paroo, KieraLee, Kalaia, Googleeyes, (my first reviewers), as well as to Timeflies for encouragement. Without you I would not have had a drive to finish this story. You all have made this crazy idea to write a fanfiction not quite so crazy.

Oh, and also, an indirect thank you to Andrew Lloyd Webber, creator of the Phantom of the Opera movie/musical/play. We are all indebted to you for your genius.

In conclusion, thank you readers, reviewers, and wonderful people out there on who have embraced and encouraged my work in past and present.

Until next time (wow, now I sound like a commercial! Sorry!),

Yours,

MP5 (MaroonPhantom5 a.k.a. Dana)


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